A Medjai Wedding
by LadyDeb1970
Summary: Now complete! As Ardeth and Celia's wedding draws closer, each fights their own insecurities, as well as disapproval from some Medjai. Meanwhile, Imhotep faces struggles of his own in this strange new world.
1. Prologue: Ardath and Rameses

Disclaimer: Ardeth Bey, the extended Carnahan-O'Connell clan, Imhotep, Anck-su-namun, the premise of the first two Mummy movies, and the various gods and goddesses, as well as historical figures, mentioned herein don't belong to me. I've also borrowed two characters from 'The Mummy: Secrets of the Med-jai,' namely Yanit and Nizam Toth. However, the Ferguson family, Lady Ardath, Khaldun, Altair, Anatol, Acacia, Aleta, Damara, Darius, Suleiman, Andreas, and assorted Med-jai DO belong to me. As ever, I have no problem with people borrowing the characters, just return them to me intact and give credit where credit is due.  
  
Warning: Well, the prologue and epilogue both involve non-graphic sex between two people utterly committed to each other. Just to be safe, though, I've put this in the 'R' section.  
  
Prologue  
  
He was close. He was so very close. His face was but a breath away from her face, his dark eyes boring into her own. She felt her heart racing, even as he placed one hand on either side of her head. Her breath caught in her throat, and he whispered, "I frighten you, do I not? There is no need for you to fear me. I would never harm you." They played this game for days, weeks, even. It was only a matter of time before she allowed him to catch her.  
  
She just wasn't expecting this. He leaned in very slowly and kissed her lightly. It was the barest hint of a kiss, simply a light caress of his lips. But it had the effect of making her knees buckle. She started to slide down the wall, but he caught her easily, his hands slipping from the wall to her waist. He really did think of everything, didn't he? His smile told her that. She knew he was a powerful man, accustomed to getting what he wanted.  
  
And what he wanted was to drive her mad with desire. His hands moved from her waist to her upper arms, before cupping her breasts. She gave a low whimper, sensations pouring through her. One thumb lightly stroked a nipple through the white linen of her tunic as he leaned in to kiss her once more, a free hand gliding from her breast, down her ribcage, over her belly, before sliding between her legs. She caught her breath. No one ever touched her there before. But he knew what he was doing. Of course he knew. He knew his affect on women.  
  
"Close your eyes, my flower, close your eyes and trust me," he whispered. It didn't occur to her to do anything different. Did the man have any idea how seductive he was? How beautiful? Of course he did. A man that beautiful couldn't help but know, could he? Beauty could be terribly cruel, and yet, she knew he would never hurt her. The girl closed her eyes, shuddering as he stroked his fingers between her legs.  
  
"My flower," he whispered, his breath warm upon her face, "my sweet flower. And that is what you are, of course. You hide your beauty until you blossom, and then your brilliance is there for all to see." Her breath hitched as his lips brushed hers, then she moaned at the caress of his tongue against her lips. Demanding access to her mouth, and again, it never occurred to her to argue. Not that she was capable of arguing, even if she had thought of it.  
  
It seemed as though his touch turned her brain to mush. At that particular moment in time, she couldn't have told someone her name. He drove away all coherent thought with a two-pronged attack. He. . .oh goddess, what was he *doing* to her? She groaned as he pulled back, and started sliding down her body, kissing her through the thin tunic. Then his lips touched her belly, and she almost collapsed from the shockwaves which went through her body.  
  
He laughed softly, the vibration sending another shockwave through her, and whispered, "Ohhh, now I know what pleases you. And why not?" His hand slid from between her legs and crept back up to her middle, drawing a whimper as he cupped her there. He continued, "This is the beginning of life, this sacred part of a woman. But then, all of a woman is sacred, as sacred as any statue, and I intend to worship you."  
  
He lightly stroked her belly through the thin material, murmuring, "I look forward to seeing you grow big with my child, my flower, to feeling our child grow within you." She moaned softly, her body seemingly on fire. Her blood felt like lava in her veins, and her bones turned to water. His body shifted along hers and he whispered, "Are you ready for me, my flower? Are you ready to blossom?"  
  
She gasped, 'yes,' and his hands shifted to cup her face. She opened her eyes to find a strange expression in his brown eyes. She barely recognized it as fear. That gave her the strength she needed. She whispered, "I am ready, my prince. But be gentle with me. I do not fear you. . .I love you. But these feelings do frighten me. I am not beautiful, like Nefertiri or Anck-su-namun. I am not used to men looking at me as you do." He smiled, leaning forward to kiss her temple, and his smile served to make her knees weak all over again. Strange, her experimentation never had this affect on her. Maybe it was the difference in her body, maybe it was that it was Rameses touching her like this.  
  
"You are wrong, my flower. You are just as beautiful as my sister or Anck-su-namun. You have a true, honest heart, and that makes you the most beautiful woman in the palace. You are my flower, my Ardath, and I will spend my entire life loving you," he promised. Ardath, once called Eavan, looked at him with a critical eye, at this man who promised her forever. Her first foster mother Miriam warned her about the Egyptians.  
  
But Miriam was no longer here, and while the Israelites saved her life and raised her, it was the Egyptians who loved her and took care of her for these last five years. Ardath was a practical girl and she had her own wisdom. She was neither Egyptian nor Hebrew. And from the little she remembered of her own parents, her father never allowed the differences between him and her mother to separate them.  
  
And she loved Rameses. She fell in love with him months ago, when he prevented Khaldun from beating her and the Med-jai child. He took an interest in her, and Anck urged her to accept his attentions. Anck was as practical as she, more so. Not that it was particularly hard for her to accept the attentions of the prince, not when he willingly shared himself with her. He was nothing like Khaldun. He would never hurt her.  
  
He asked her a question, and it deserved an answer. Looking into the prince's eyes, Ardath whispered, "You tell me that you will spend your life loving me. Then start tonight. No more teasing. No more kisses, only to disappear. Take me to your bed, my prince, and love me." Rameses stared at her, then his smile brightened. He swung her into his arms and kissed her hard. Ardath returned the kiss, silently grateful that she knew how to do so.  
  
Rameses whispered against her mouth, "I am your servant. I will worship you and love you always. I will give you children, and if I can, I will make you my wife. But for now, I give you my heart and my trust. You are mine, and I am yours, forevermore." Forever. Ardath didn't trust forever, but she did trust Rameses, and that was enough. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he lifted her into his arms, cradling her against her chest, then smiled at her.  
  
He carried her through the palace, and Ardath saw several Med-jai smiling broadly. They knew this was coming. . .the biggest smiles belonged to those who knew what Rameses was planning. That was why no one disturbed them while Rameses was. . .touching her. One of these days, she would learn not to underestimate Rameses. She almost quivered in his arms, remembering how it felt when he touched her. She would feel that way again, she knew that. Before the night was out, she would feel that way once more.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye, Ardath saw someone. . .Nefertiri? Yes, yes, it was. The thirteen year old princess was glaring daggers at her, and Ardath sighed. No doubt, she hated her for taking Rameses' attention away from her. It wasn't that Nefertiri was spoiled, it was. . .oh goddess. Ardath felt her eyes rolling up in her head as Rameses caressed her legs. All thoughts of Nefertiri's jealousy were driven out of her mind. There was room only for Rameses. 


	2. New Beginnings

Part One  
  
Celia jerked awake, breathing heavily. It took her a few moments to orient herself, while she remembered that she wasn't Ardath. Worse yet, she didn't want to remember immediately that she was Celia. This wasn't the first time she had that dream, but this was the first time she reacted like this. Celia could still feel Rameses' hands on her body. She whispered, "I don't know what I ate last night to cause that dream, but I should make sure the next time I eat it is *after* I get married."  
  
A quick peek told her that it was still night. She wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and quietly left the tent she and Miranda shared with Aleta. The night air chilled her, soothing her hot body. Though Celia slowly got used to the knowledge that she was Lady Ardath, the dreams rattled her. Even more than the memories, because the memories belonged to someone else. The dreams were another story entirely.  
  
Was she dreaming because Ardath wanted her to know something, or was this triggered by her own upcoming wedding? Celia couldn't say for sure, nor did she realize until her feet stopped moving that she reached Ardeth's favorite spot to think. The cliff where they shared their first kiss, the cliff overlooking Hamunaptra. Death and life, forever entangled in that cursed city; but then, that was life itself, wasn't it?  
  
She sank to her knees, allowing the chilly night air to dry her damp curls and cool her face. The night wind could soothe the discomfort of her body, but it couldn't ease her mind. Only time could do that, because what troubled Celia now was fear. Even if she wasn't Ardath three thousand years earlier, Celia still understood the girl's fear. She was only fifteen years old when she fell in love with Rameses, when she became his wife in all but name. Young and scared. Celia was twice her age, but she was still scared.  
  
Terrified out of her mind, really. She loved Ardeth. That was not the issue for her, and she was certain it wasn't an issue for Ardeth, given the risk he was taking for her. But marriage was a gigantic step under the best of circumstances. She was an American commoner marrying what amounted to Med-jai royalty. They both had a lot of adjustments to make. A sound behind her alerted her that she was no longer alone, and Celia rolled to her feet, drawing her dagger at the same time.  
  
Then relaxed when she realized her fiancé joined her on the sand dune. Celia returned the dagger to its scabbard, remembering now that Anck- su-namun swore to watch over her. If the person behind her was an enemy, Anck would have warned her, even as she dealt with the threat. Ardeth said softly, "I see I should warn you in the future, my Celia, or make my presence known as I approach. I do not wish to be reminded of the first move which Anck-su-namun taught my ancestress and namesake."  
  
Celia blushed and held her hand out to her beloved, sighing contentedly as he took her hand, then wrapped his arms around her. Ardeth drew her back against his chest, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. Both were silent for several moments, content to simply remain in each other's arms. At last, Ardeth whispered, "I could not sleep. Thoughts kept chasing each other in my head, would not let me rest. I checked on you before I retired to my tent for the night, and you were asleep. What woke you up?"  
  
"Dreams," she murmured, "of Ardath and Rameses." The silence behind her told her that Ardeth also dreamed of the pair, but that surprised her very little. It seemed the young couple had a difficult time letting go and accepting their hard-won peace. That was often the way of warriors, and whether Ardath accepted it or not, she *was* a warrior. Celia whispered, "Are you as frightened as I am? Of the wedding, I mean?"  
  
There was a long silence, and Celia was afraid that she hit a forbidden zone. That was what Acacia called a series of gray areas, where Ardeth was still struggling with his duties as husband and as chieftain. After a moment, however, he answered in a low voice, "I am terrified." Celia gave a soft sigh of relief, and Ardeth murmured, "You are not shocked or horrified by that. Indeed, you sound relieved."  
  
"I am," she answered bluntly, drawing an involuntary laugh from her fiancé. Celia rolled her eyes and continued, "Besides, I would be neither shocked nor horrified even if I weren't relieved. Ardeth, you forget. I know that I am not just marrying the king, the mage, the general. I am also marrying the man. I'd be more worried if you weren't as frightened as I am. I'm also relieved because you trust me enough to be honest." He laughed softly, gifting her with a second kiss atop her head.  
  
"My apologies, my beautiful Celia, I forgot that I am marrying a grown woman, not a callow child," came his reply. She laughed softly at this oft-repeated phrase. It sometimes seemed to her that he said this once a day, at least. His arms tightened about her waist, then he said softly, "My ancestress was not the only one who was frightened that night. So, too, was Rameses." Celia twisted in Ardeth's arms until she could look into his eyes. And when she did, his beauty took her breath away once more.  
  
When she could breathe, she rasped out, "Why was he afraid?" For the same reason as you, my love? The same reason as I, the same reason as Ardath was, so long ago? Probably. Love frightened people. Passion was even more terrifying, for the way it shattered a person's control. The lucky ones learned how to channel that passion, rather than fight it or suppress it. Lessons Celia was only now starting to learn.  
  
"For the same reasons as I. He was afraid of hurting her, of frightening her. She was only fifteen, and he was twenty-two. He was so much more experienced than she was, and she was so very tiny, or so it seemed to him. I fear that, as well. I am afraid I might harm you, that I might lose my head in a moment of passion. You seem so small and fragile to me, Celia, it would be too easy to break you in half," Ardeth replied.  
  
Celia kissed his throat, whispering, "You could never hurt me, Ardeth, and I'm not as fragile as I look. Nor do you frighten me." He was silent, and Celia added, "All right. Perhaps you can hurt me. You have the strength for it. But I know you, Ardeth, and you would not hurt me willingly. And I am not so helpless that I cannot defend myself. I will never be as good as you, but I can defend myself and my daughter."  
  
"You have made great progress, my queen, I have watched you practice with my sisters. However, if I were to lose myself. . ." Ardeth began. Celia turned fully in his arms, so that she could look at him full on without breaking her neck in the process. She cupped his face in her hands, lightly stroking his high cheekbones with the pads of her thumbs. He closed his eyes, a strangled noise emerging from his throat.  
  
"Ardeth," she whispered, "how many times, since you became a man, have you lost your temper? Have you lost control of yourself?" Ardeth sighed deeply, which meant that wasn't the problem. Celia frowned, trying to figure out why her fiancé was so troubled. More than that, she wasn't sure if she should push him. She was very new at relationships in general, and she was still a little in awe that this beautiful, fierce warrior was hers. That he wanted her, that he loved her. She didn't want to go too far.  
  
And so, she snuggled against him, trying to warm him. His arms tightened about her, and Celia wasn't sure if he was trying to protect her from something only he could see, or if there was something else troubling him. In the end, it didn't really matter. In three days, she would be Ardeth's, and he would be hers. She could wait to find out what troubled her beloved. She waited three thousand years, after all.  
  
. . .  
  
Imhotep, once the high priest of Seti I, did not believe in luck. Or so he told himself when he was young and arrogant. One made his own luck, made his own destiny. That was what he believed for so many years, but now, everything Imhotep *ever* believed was at the mercy of the gods. When he first walked the earth as a mortal, his best friend was Rameses, who was reborn as a Med-jai.  
  
That alone told him that the gods were laughing at him, oh so amused by his pitiful attempts to become a god. They knew, of course, that he would attempt to take control of the Army of Anubis, and punished him accordingly. He now lived among the people whom Imhotep hated most in the world, and his best friend was reborn not just as a Med-jai, but as the chieftain himself!  
  
That wasn't the only thing. Only six mortal months earlier, his treasured Anck-su-namun, the woman for whom he murdered and endured that damnable hom-dai, betrayed him. Hadn't she? The little queen, Lady Ardath's reincarnation, said that it was Meela Nais who left him in Ahm Shere, not Anck-su-namun. And yet, Anck-su-namun apologized to him, asked for his forgiveness. It was Anck-su-namun, the princess of his heart. He knew that, could see the love in her eyes when she looked at the little queen.  
  
The little queen. Imhotep sighed, thinking of that strange young woman. Once called Lady Ardath, now called Celia Ferguson. She was a mystery in and of herself. Imhotep always fancied Ardath to be weak, but her threats a few weeks earlier proved him wrong. He still couldn't believe she threatened him with something worse than the hom-dai if he didn't help the Med-jai, Rameses reborn.  
  
And yet, she kept her word. She kept her word, shattering the hom- dai with a mix of her blood and the blood of the Med-jai. She kept her word and Imhotep was free. Which begged the question. . .why was he here? Why was he even alive? Why did he choose to leave Hamunaptra? Imhotep didn't know. Why did he choose to live, when he could have peace? He didn't know. He had no answers. He who once considered a wise man, who once counseled pharaohs and princes, had no idea of anything.  
  
He didn't know why his heart still cried out, 'Rameses,' every time he looked at the Med-jai chieftain. His best friend was three thousand years dead. The Med-jai was merely the reincarnation. *And yet,* an insistent voice whispered, *that did not stop Anck-su-namun from loving the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. She grew to love Celia Ferguson.* But Ardath was not reincarnated as Anck-su-namun's worst enemy.  
  
Worse yet, Imhotep found he couldn't even hate the Med-jai, or any of his long-time enemies. He couldn't hate Nefertiri, for calling out to the Med-jai. He tried. . .the gods knew he tried. But the little queen, while she gave his freedom to him, took all of his excuses away. "What did you expect Nefertiri to do, when she saw you murdering her father?" she demanded angrily only a few weeks earlier, after he denigrated the youthful princess for her interference.  
  
*What did you expect her to do?* Strange, how he never thought of that before. He only saw that when she cried out to the Med-jai, she effectively killed Anck-su-namun. Never did he think about the consequences to others. Nefertiri saw them murder her beloved father. And whatever else his flaws were, Seti was a good father. He loved Nefertiri and Rameses with a ferocity that made Imhotep's throat ache.  
  
Seti loved his son's concubine, though he hid it well. Imhotep was disconcerted to find a memory, long pushed aside. It was after the assassination attempt on Seti's life, the attempt which caused Ardath's miscarriage. Imhotep went to the girl's chambers and found Seti at her side, holding her hand and telling her stories about Rameses when he was a child. Because of his position, Rameses could not make Ardath his wife. . . but with that odd act of kindness, Seti told Ardath that she was now his daughter.  
  
Imhotep ran his hand over his face. For three thousand years, his hatred for Seti and the Med-jai drove him. His hatred for them, and his love for Anck-su-namun, and everything was turned upside down. He now knew that the Med-jai invoked the hom-dai, because Khaldun infected their souls. No, he made use of the rage already there. Khaldun, damn his soul for all time. But then, he already did that. And Imhotep's soul was slowly returning to him. He forfeited his soul long ago, but he was learning the value of second chances. And it was this which brought him out on this night.  
  
He saw them sitting together on the cliff overlooking Hamunaptra. Rameses reborn as a Med-jai chieftain. His treasured concubine, about to become his wife at last. Jealousy twisted in Imhotep's gut, for they had what he never would. They had each other, and daily, they built upon the love which existed between them for thirty centuries. Imhotep could see their fear and insecurities, and that softened his heart toward them.  
  
Which made him want to hate them. With a frustrated groan, Imhotep turned away. Why did he remain in a world he didn't understand and didn't like? What could it give him? *Maybe,* that annoying voice said, *it isn't what this world can give you, but what you can give this world. Maybe you should use this second chance to make amends, rather than take revenge.*  
  
Make amends. He spent three mortal months in the Underworld, experiencing the pain he caused. Imhotep shuddered, remembering. Did he really want to go back to that? He remembered the pain experienced by that young American, Burns, when Imhotep took his eyes and tongue, and then his life. That was the curse driving him. The curse drove him to kill many. And what he considered necessity drove him to kill others.  
  
No, not all of it was his fault. But some. He caused harm to the little queen, who did nothing to him, when he took her daughter. Sweet little Miranda and brave little Alex. Imhotep loved children. If he wished to atone, he had to acknowledge what he did. While the child's father and Rameses reborn fought for their lives, Imhotep's men followed the bus, ready to snatch the boy.  
  
Twice, he abducted children. He frightened both children, and left little Alex to the not-so tender mercies of Lock-nah. That one, Imhotep would have never tolerated as one of his priests. He had no understanding of loyalty. Nor did Hafez, who sacrificed his men to save his own pitiful life. The former mummy didn't know the exact circumstances, but he was in the temple. None of the other men were. It was easy to figure out what happened after he and the woman left the jungle.  
  
Why should he rescue him from the Scorpion King? Imhotep believed Hafez received the appropriate punishment. And maybe that was why Imhotep chose life. Maybe the voice inside his head was right. He could not atone for the pain he caused willingly if he was dead. Death is only the beginning, he said. He scratched it on the inside of the sarcophagus after the hom-dai. But one could not usually atone when they were dead, unless one was fortunate indeed. As Anck-su-namun was.  
  
He watched the young couple on the hillside for a few more moments. Their story would be different this time around, Imhotep knew. Rameses still had not forgiven himself for what he became after Ardath's murder, but he also knew that he was never as strong without her as he was with her. And Ardath. Ardath would never let him go. This, Imhotep could see, even as he saw that he would never let her go. The loneliness returned. He whispered in his ancient Egyptian tongue, "Why, Anck-su-namun? Why?"  
  
There were no answers. Not to that question, not to any other questions which he asked himself. And so, for the first time in three thousand years, Imhotep was in the position of having to let go. He didn't know how. He didn't know how to start over. But now that he was truly living again, he had no wish to die. He quietly slipped back into his tent. He had more thinking to do.  
  
. . .  
  
Anck-su-namun no longer kept company with Mathayus. Not because he angered her, but because Ma'at had another assignment for him, and she had her own assignment. She would watch over Celia and Ardeth. Right now, she was still learning what she could and could not do. Ma'at didn't mind when she pulled pranks, but unless Celia's life was directly threatened, she was not permitted to attack anyone.  
  
They still had to work out exactly what 'directly threatened' meant. That was the biggest hurtle. That, and figuring out which lines she could and could not cross with Ma'at. The one thing which Anck truly enjoyed about Mathayus was, she always knew exactly where she stood with him. And with a start, she realized the same was true of Seti. As first as his concubine, then his wife to be, she always knew where she stood with him, and that gave her a stability of some sort.  
  
There was a similar stability with both Mathayus and Imhotep, to some degree. And there was a different form of stability found within the love of her best friend. The knowledge that she disappointed Ardath weighed heavily on Anck's soul. Ardath forgave her, and Anck knew that she still loved her, but it still hurt. She loved Imhotep and Ardath so much, and she caused them both such pain.  
  
*You have been told, Anck, that it was Meela who abandoned Imhotep. Many times, you have been told this. Why do you not forgive yourself for that, at least?* Ma'at asked. Anck didn't answer. She was watching Ardeth and Celia. More than that, she could hear what they both were thinking, and her heart broke for the fear which they both felt. She understood their fear, of course. She understood it, because she once felt that same fear. And she still felt that fear, every time she looked at Ardeth Bey.  
  
Ma'at sighed quietly, then continued, *I see. You continue to struggle with your own difficulties. Acknowledging Ardeth Bey not only as the reincarnation of Rameses, but as the descendent of your friend.* It wasn't that at all. Anck long since accepted that Ardeth was the reincarnation of her friend, long since accepted that he wasn't just the namesake, but the distant child of her best friend. It was just that. . .  
  
*I wonder sometimes, Mother of Justice, if Imhotep and I would have made it. I know that I love him, and that he loved me, but I listen to their fears. Ardeth and Celia. They are from such different worlds. He has so many responsibilities, other than Celia. And yet, they hold onto their love for each other. I believe that they will triumph in the end. But I wonder. Did desperation drive my love for Imhotep? The darkness of it? The forbidden fruit is all the sweeter, because it is forbidden,* Anck explained.  
  
*I can answer none of your questions, child, save one. Even if you chose to leave with Imhotep that night, rather than sacrifice yourself in front of the Med-jai, your love for him was doomed to failure. It was the wrong time for you, child. Just as it was the wrong time for Rameses and Ardath,* Ma'at answered. Anck looked at the goddess, who continued, *Did you truly think Ardath died only because Khaldun wishes to eliminate Rameses? No, little one. It was the wrong time for her and Rameses.*  
  
Ma'at fell silent, then continued, *What none of us foresaw was how quickly Rameses would spin out of control. We needed him to be angry, so other things would fall into place, but there is a difference between angry and unreasonable. At the end of his life, he was so guilt-ridden by what he became, he denied himself the love of the woman who would never leave him. In my own anger with him, I decreed that he would be reborn as a Med- jai. I failed to realize that he was punishing himself.*  
  
Anck looked at the goddess in surprise. Ma'at added, *I am a goddess, little one, but I make mistakes as well. Sometimes, we forget the difference between us and mortals such as yourself.* What exactly did that mean? Ma'at replied, *It means that mortals are prone to punish themselves for transgressions, both real and imagined. Gods do not. I failed to take that into account when I was judging Rameses for his next life.*  
  
Like Ardeth. Anck often saw Ardeth punish himself for what he saw as a failure. Ma'at inclined her head, saying, *Just so. Ardeth, like his predecessors, often punishes himself. He fails to take care of himself, by forgetting to eat. It is Celia's task to make sure he does not cause himself harm. It was a task at which your Ardath excelled while she drew breath, and I see no reason why Celia will not do the same.*  
  
Yes, Anck remembered that. She remembered how Ardath often did small things to help Rameses. Odd. After being reunited with Ardath, Anck was remembering more and more about her forever friend. It was as if she suppressed the memories of her beloved sister through the years. And yet, Meela remembered Ardath. It was the one crime for which Anck could forgive her spirit-twin. She was told that the O'Connells left Ardath's reincarnation to die, and it was for that reason Meela killed Evelyn O'Connell.  
  
Anck forced her mind back to Ardeth Bey and Rameses. Looking back now, she could see that Ma'at was correct. She witnessed the tendency demonstrated by both men to push themselves to the point of collapse, and wondered briefly if the first Ardeth Bey, the son of Rameses and Ardath, did the same thing. More than likely. She just hoped someone looked after him, as Ardath looked after Rameses.  
  
*That is why he collapsed so completely. He pushed his body to its limits, and beyond, and when an injury felled him, his body had precious few reserves of strength,* Anck observed, and the goddess again inclined her head. Rameses was the same way. He would push and push and push himself, long past the point of no return. And when an injury or illness felled him, it took him a long time to recover.  
  
The goddess agreed, *Exactly, child. Some things never change. Like Terumun. You do not remember him being much like Rick O'Connell, but he was. Especially when he was very young. And he would have done what you are remembering.* Anck laughed with the goddess, relishing the memory of O'Connell trying to pull his gun, only to have it get stuck in his belt. Ma'at shook her head in mock-consternation, adding, *Anck, you can be a very unpleasant young woman.*  
  
*I know,* came Anck's smug reply, *and I will whisper reminders to the Med-jai warriors of that day, as often as possible.* She grinned evilly, having no way of knowing that it was the same smile which Meela wore when she threw her asp at Rick O'Connell. Nor did she have any way of knowing the fate of her spirit-twin. Not that Anck cared, of course. Meela didn't deserve her time or attention.  
  
*Very well. But Anck, you should know. You have asked me many times why constitutes a direct threat against Celia,* Ma'at said. Anck blinked in surprise. Ma'at continued, her voice growing softer as Ardeth carried a now-sleeping Celia back to her tent before returning to his own, *Very shortly, a direct attack against Celia will occur. You will know it when you see it, and you are not permitted to intervene.*  
  
Anck whipped around, a protest leaping immediately to her lips. A direct attack against Celia, and she could not intervene??? Her protest died on her lips when Ma'at continued, *You wish for the Med-jai to accept her, do you not?* Of course she did! Ma'at told her, *Then you must allow her to deal with this threat, alone. As it is, half of the Med-jai women consider her a sorceress of some kind, because of the tricks you have played. The other half find it very hard to believe that she helped to defeat Khaldun.*  
  
Anck knew Ma'at was right. She watched Celia struggle to remain patient with the rudeness. Especially when her daughter suffered for it. She also understood that Celia didn't want to cause her fiancé any harm. But she couldn't argue with the goddess, for she knew that at some point, Celia would have to fight back. Her heart hurt for her friend, and quietly promised herself that she would support Celia when that time came.  
  
*Very good, Anck. You have learned the first lesson,* Ma'at said, sounding very pleased. Lesson? What lesson? On second thought, maybe she didn't want to know. That was usually the case. Ma'at went on, *The first thing which you must learn now is restraint. You see the balance which both Ardeth and Celia must strike, and accept that there are some things you cannot do for your forever friend. Much as you wish otherwise, your actions within the Land of the Living are limited.*  
  
Anck *did* know, and did accept that. But she didn't like it. She remembered interactions with the other concubines. Ardath quietly removed herself from the game, thus assuring her own victory. She was startled as she applied that insight to Celia Ferguson. Ma'at said, *You do learn fast. Do not be afraid. When she needs you, you may move heaven, hell, and earth for her.* In those words, Anck found comfort. She only hoped it wouldn't be necessary.  
  
. . .  
  
As it was every morning, the Med-jai camp was awake and alert by the time the sun was up. Everyone was either training, out on patrol, or helping with the chieftain's wedding. That last task was huge. The Med- jai, previously thought to be a grim, humorless people, were revealed as something quite different during recent weeks. Yes, they knew their task, but this was a time for celebration.  
  
It was so long since they had a reason to celebrate. . .even if not everyone was pleased about the upcoming wedding, now only two days away. But the man currently looking out the tent and listening to the conversation of the women currently making the wedding dress didn't really care about those people. Rather, he was more concerned with a suggestion which was just made.  
  
"I dunno, honey. . .I realize that we're the closest thing Celia has to a family, but this is kinda ridiculous," he said, turning back around to face the women. That remark was a Bad Idea. Rick O'Connell recognized the expression in his wife's eyes immediately. She looked even more determined than usual. Rick barely bit back a groan. Oh, he was in such trouble! Then again, he was in trouble just by being in the tent while these women worked on wedding apparel. Still, given the recent events, it was probably the safest place for him.  
  
In addition, now that it was established that Rick's wife Evy and their old friend Ardeth Bey were brother and sister in multiple lifetimes, Evy was utterly determined to take care of Ardeth. And that included helping as much with his courtship of Celia Ferguson as possible. Only a few minutes earlier, she suggested helping Celia with a dowry. And *that* was the source of his statement that something was ridiculous. Not because they didn't have money, but because she wasn't required to give them anything.  
  
"Rick, I don't think Evy meant that you should provide my dowry. . .I do have some money, along with the house. I just need to wire my lawyer back in Chicago, and he can take care of that, since Jason wants to strike out on his own. Ardeth and I decided to keep the house, just in case. No, I think Evy meant you could help me get a fair price for some good horses which I could give to the Med-jai as my dowry," Celia said softly.  
  
Rick looked back at Evy, who was smiling at him brightly. He just sighed and answered, "Horses, and maybe a Thompson. . .my wedding gift to Ardeth." Celia grinned impishly, and Rick continued, "Okay, I can go along with that. You do realize, though, that it won't buy you any friends among those disappointed maidens that have been mentioned repeatedly lately?" Celia shrugged, returning her attention to her sewing.  
  
"I'm not buying friends, Rick, I'm honoring the traditions of my soon- to-be husband. My concern is not with them. . .it's with being a good wife to Ardeth," Celia replied. She set down the material for her daughter's dress, continuing, "I never thought I would get married, after what happened with Carstairs. I never dreamed that there was a man out there who could love me. Now, as a widow, it's not necessary for me to give a dowry to the Med-jai. But I want to."  
  
"Okay. . .just so you know what you're getting into," Rick replied. However, he had to admit, he kinda looked forward to the day when some of those women actually bothered to talk to Celia. While it was Ardath and Celia together who defeated Khaldun, Rick knew Celia well enough to realize that the Med-jai women did not want her as an enemy. Especially not if Anck ran out of patience first, which was entirely likely.  
  
The Med-jai had varied reactions to their new queen, from what Rick saw. There were the spiteful ones, who could be found in every culture. Some were appreciative of her attempts to learn their customs, while still others warily gave Celia a chance. Acacia and Aleta were teaching Celia to speak Arabic, and their friends suffered through her terrible accent. In return, she told them stories about Ardath and Anck, who made her presence known in the camp.  
  
Ardeth's family took Celia on a tour of the Med-jai camp. It was their way of demonstrating to all Med-jai they approved of Ardeth's chosen wife. This did not go over well with several young girls, including one who spat on Celia's boots. Altair berated the girl, while Celia dried off her boot with sand. Her face registered no emotion as the Bey siblings closed ranks around her. Altair joined them after scolding the now weeping girl, and the girl fled inside her tent, which promptly collapsed on top of her. Rick had no doubt that Anck was responsible for that.  
  
Celia asked softly if Altair's scolding would make things worse, but Aleta answered that her mother was well within her rights. To show disrespect to his intended bride was to show disrespect to Ardeth. Besides, the girl was far too young and immature for Ardeth. This was said loud enough for all to hear. They had to understand the consequences of such behavior, since their parents hadn't raised them well.  
  
The following night, the girl's parents forced her to apologize to Celia. Ardeth wasn't inclined to accept, but Celia whispered something to him. He acceeded, and said no more. Celia accepted the apology, then offered food to the parents. . . though not to the girl. She wasn't that forgiving. Later, she worried that she overstepped her bounds, but Altair assured her that it soothed some bad feelings. She was proven correct when that mother asked if she could make Celia's wedding robes. Celia shyly accepted, and from that rather inauspicious start, things began to slowly turn in her favor.  
  
Rick said now, "Okay. So, you want to provide the tribe with horses. You're not the kind of woman who waves money in the faces of others, even though you have it. So. We should buy good, solid horses. Not the most beautiful, but the most dependable. And I know some horse traders, from my Legion days. I think I'll hold off on the Thompson until later. . .Evy, Celia, do you know of anything else which the Med-jai need?"  
  
The Med-jai were a fiercely independent people. But they were still recovering from Ahm Shere and Khaldun. And as Evy was so fond of reminding him, they owed the Med-jai. Celia answered, biting her lip as she tried to sew on a pearl, "Aleta has mentioned needing more medical supplies, especially bandages. We can buy those in Cairo, I'm sure, or at Fort Brydon. Strangest dowry in history, but I'm not exactly the conventional bride. Atair, what do you think?"  
  
She looked at the woman, who was helping her small granddaughter with her own sewing, and Altair replied, "Well, it is not particularly romantic. . .but we Med-jai favor practicality, which you have. And while you are older than most brides, you are also considered a widow in our ways. You have a child, so we know you to be fertile. And, you do not embarrass easily."  
  
"Well. . .in this case, I take it as a compliment," Celia returned and Altair smiled. Celia continued, "All right, I need more explanations. The Elders mentioned Ardeth courting me. What does that mean, and what do I need to do?" Rick blinked. Did she ever stop? She kept asking what she was supposed to do. Fortunately, the Med-jai were a practical people, so it was unlikely that Celia would step on any more toes than she already had, just by being an American.  
  
"When you and Ardeth are wed, he will give you a gold ring. It is a symbol of his trust in you, trusted with his wealth and belongings. This is a very old tradition, dating back to the times of the pharaohs," Altair explained, then added, "No, Damara, you may not have a gold ring, that is for Uncle Ardeth to give to Auntie Celia. Acacia, take her back to your tent, I believe it is time for her nap." Rick bit his lip, seeing in his mind a four year old Ardeth pouting like his niece.  
  
"Auntie Celia. . .I think I like the sound of that," the young woman mused, and Altair flashed her a smile. Damara was whimpering, and Celia asked, "May I have a hug before you take your nap?" Damara buried her face in her mother's neck, and Celia continued, "All right, maybe when you wake up. Speaking of naps, I think my daughter will probably be waking up from hers soon."  
  
"She is already awake, and Ardeth took her for a ride. . .remember? You told Ardeth he could take her for a ride, once she woke up? Maybe Damara isn't the only one who needs a nap!" Evy teased her best friend. Celia stuck her tongue out at her, and Evy mock-scolded, waggling her finger, "Now, now. . .behave yourself, or there will be no time with Ardeth this evening!"  
  
Altair looked between the two young women, asking, "I will assume, Evelyn, that you are merely teasing my daughter?" Evy nodded in acknowledgment, biting back her own mischievous smile, and Altair continued, "I assumed as much. . .for I know that my son has not dishonored his bride to be by showing her affection other than kisses. Celia, you asked about the courtship itself. There are no specific Med-jai courtship rituals, aside from the ones I have mentioned."  
  
She paused, patting the back of Damara's head as Acacia carried her from the tent, then continued, "Each man courts his intended as he chooses. But because you are the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, there is a special ceremony the night before your wedding to my son. A. . .an affirmation, that it is Ardeth who marries Celia Ferguson, rather than Rameses who marries Lady Ardath. This will not be difficult, since Ardeth fell in love with you long before he awakened to his memories of being Rameses."  
  
"The ceremony will entail Ardeth telling the entire encampment, and the twelve commanders, what drew him to you. . .and then you will address those gathered, and do the same. . . only explain what drew you to Ardeth, of course," Aleta put in. Rick fought back a grin. . .who would have known that quiet Aleta Bey could be such a smart ass? Aleta added, "And please, Celia. . .you are not yet ready to address us in Arabic."  
  
"Would you like to tell me something I don't know? Aside from why Rick is sitting with us women, instead of being out with the warriors, of course," Celia fired back. The women all exchanged evil grins, and Rick had a sense of deja vu. He had this same feeling in Ahm Shere when both the Scorpion King and Imhotep looked at him. Right before the Scorpion King attacked Rick. Which brought up something else. . .  
  
But before he had a chance to speak, Evy piped up, "You mean aside from the fact that the last time he was out with the warriors, he. . .?" Rick immediately kissed his wife. He really didn't want to think about that. Still, the rest of the women were all struggling to keep from laughing. Evy blinked as he pulled back, and Rick grinned. Ardeth harassed him earlier, teasing that Rick lost his touch with Evy after an argument. He was wrong. Oh, did Rick still have it!  
  
"Vengeance is ours, sayeth the ladies," Celia added, grinning impishly. She really was not the same girl whom he, Ardeth, Jonathan, and Anatol found at the Cairo dock nearly two months earlier. Then again, falling in love and kicking the ass of a seriously evil spirit tended to have that effect on a woman. Just look at Evy. Celia added, grinning at Aleta, "But, O'Connell, you really must be more careful with your gun."  
  
He should have known that was coming. He really should have known. Rick glared at Celia, trying desperately to hang onto what was left of his dignity, and fired back, "You know, you sound more like Ardeth every day!" Okay. . .that didn't quite have the impact that he was looking for! Celia just raised her eyebrows, her lips twitching with laughter.  
  
Just when Rick thought he MIGHT get off lucky, Celia answered sweetly, "Rick, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me." The entire tent erupted into laughter. Rick did the only thing he could. He left the woment's tent. . .he wasn't entirely sure where he was going. Just as long as he didn't cross Imhotep's path. Now there was a problem in the making. That guy was waiting to do something ugly to the Med-jai, Rick just knew it. And if Imhotep hurt Evy or Alex, Rick would find a way to kill him for good this time, though the Med-jai scrolls told them that Imhotep could only die by his own hand, when he was tired of life and tired of atoning.  
  
Atoning. Yeah, right! Rick muttered under his breath, not even caring about the amused looks directed at him by the Med-jai warriors as he passed. He was so annoyed in general that he walked right into something very large and very smelly, to the accompaniment of high, childish laughter. Rick looked up into the eyes of a black horse. A familiar voice asked, with a hint of laughter, "Are you lost, O'Connell?"  
  
Rick glared at the figure atop the horse. . .well, the larger figure. . .and asked, "How many times do I gotta tell you to call me 'Rick,' for. . .for Pete's sake?" Ardeth Bey just smiled, his eyes dancing with laughter. Sheesh. Rick could remember a time when this man was threatening to kill him, and an even more recent time when he didn't laugh much. As in, just a few months earlier.  
  
"I apologize, my friend, but old habits are difficult to break. Perhaps with the influence of my wife and daughter, it will become easier," Ardeth replied, holding that child in front of him. Miranda Ferguson gave an excited little bounce, obviously happy to be riding. Then again, it was just as likely that she was happy to spend time with Ardeth, her hero. She saw him kick Khaldun's ass, but Rick hadn't. Some days, it just didn't pay to get out of bed.  
  
Miranda said now, giving Rick a big grin, "Ardeth's gonna be my daddy when he marries my mommy, Uncle Rick." That was what she told everyone she met during the last few weeks. Truth be told, she was probably one of the biggest reasons that the tide was slowly turning in Celia's favor. Miranda obviously worshipped Ardeth, and she was not in the least bit shy about saying so. Not that everything was hunky dory lately.  
  
Shortly after Ardeth announced that he would marry Celia, some Med- jai children heard their parents talking about it. Some warriors were disgruntled, fearing that their chieftain was going soft. The attitude of the parents was transmitted to the children, who harassed Miranda. The four year old responded by telling her mother that she didn't like it here. She didn't like the children, they were mean to her.  
  
Two things happened after that. First, Ardeth referred to Miranda as his daughter in public. Then, Darius and Damara refused to speak to the children who made fun of Miranda. Darius told everyone that it was his job, as Miranda's bigger and older cousin, to take care of her.  
  
Rick was brought back to the present by Miranda, who repeated happily, "I'm gonna have a daddy, I'm gonna have a daddy, I'm gonna have a daddy!" With each word, she bounced in Ardeth's arms, and Rick fought back a grin. Not just at the excited little girl, but by the snort given by the long-suffering horse. Miranda stopped bouncing, leaned forward and stage- whispered, "Uncle Rick, I'm so happy. Now Ardeth can help me take care of Mommy!"  
  
"And we will take care of your mother, just as she takes care of us," Ardeth added, smiling down at the little girl. He looked at Rick, adding with a pseudo-innocent grin, "So, you are out and about now?" Rick just glared at the other man. . .it was just his luck that Ardeth was there when IT happened. Ardeth continued in a mock conspiratorial voice, "I understand, my friend. . . there is no dishonor in admitting they are frightening."  
  
Rick was on the verge of reminding Ardeth that he grew up with most of those women, until he realized that Ardeth knew that. He glared at the chieftain, saying, "You know, I think I liked you better when you were all doom and gloom." Ardeth simply laughed again. Was this the same man he told in London to 'lighten up,' as they were heading out to rescue Evy? Nah. Couldn't be. He asked again, "Who are you, and what have you done with Ardeth Bey?"  
  
One would think, after asking the question seven or eight times, Rick would get tired of asking it. . .and hearing the answer. Miranda and Ardeth exchanged a Look, then Miranda sighed in obvious exasperation. For the first time, Rick thought about the consequences of Celia's marriage to Ardeth. She was formidable on her own, but she was even more dangerous with Ardeth. And then, there was the matter of their children.  
  
"O'Connell," Ardeth began, "if I have said it once, I have said it a thousand times. I am whom I have always been. You simply saw what you wanted to see." OUCH! Ardeth continued, "Now, if you will excuse me, my daughter and I must return the horse to the corral. . . and then she wishes to see her mother." With a nod to Rick, Ardeth cantered off. But as they went, Rick could hear Miranda chattering.  
  
He sighed and continued his search for Jonathan and Alex. His life was so upside down nowadays. Evy embraced her past lives as Ardeth's sister. Jonathan accepted his past as Nassor. Rick remembered quite a few things about Nassor. Maybe he should make sure that Jonathan's relationship with Ardeth was totally different?  
  
No, that was stupid. Ardeth was in love with Celia. And as he was told repeatedly, ever since they realized that Ardeth was Rameses, having their memories wasn't the same thing as being that person. Anck-su-namun was a good example of that. She made things *real* interesting. When she wasn't taking care of Celia and Miranda, she entertained all with her pranks. Evy and Anck-su-namun had a tense relationship, but while they might never be friends, they *were* allies.  
  
Rick found his way to his son's tent, where Alex and Darius played. That was a scary thought. . .Rick's son and Ardeth's nephew joining forces. The boys looked up with angelic faces as Rick entered the tent. In fact, Alex's expression reminded Rick of Evy when she was doing something sneaky. Rick asked cautiously, "Uh, boys? You're not planning trouble for your uncle's wedding, are you, Darius?"  
  
"Of course not, Mr Rick!" Darius retorted indignantly, with a glare he must have learned from his uncle, "I like Auntie Celia! She makes Uncle Ardeth smile and laugh." Well, that was good. . .Rick had no doubt there would be mischief of some kind at the wedding. Darius added with an even more angelic smile, "I wish to make sure Auntie Celia and Uncle Ardeth have a very nice wedding, that no one tries to ruin it."  
  
Okay, now Rick *was* scared. He lowered himself to the ground beside the two boys, asking, "And what exactly are you planning to do? Jonathan, how do you fit into this?" It was definitely Jonathan, sitting in the corner of the tent. . .not Nassor. Rick could tell the difference between the two. Nassor usually treated Rick as if he was barely tolerable. . .not how Nassor behaved with Terumun. Made Rick wonder why that was.  
  
"I am merely giving the boys ideas which they should not use," Jonathan answered in the same lofty voice that he used when he told Rick about finding 'an alternate means of transportation.' That damn double decker bus. Jonathan added, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief, "I happen to remember a few pranks which Anck and Ardath pulled, usually on Rameses. I suppose I could ask Imhotep for ideas."  
  
"Ohhhh, no. No. Please, don't do us any favors," Rick answered, shuddering. It wasn't just the idea of asking Imhotep for help, it was the ideas which Imhotep could give them. Terumun's memories told him that the forever friends played many pranks on the high priest. . .and more than a few of those were doozies. He could only imagine what two mischievous little boys would do to adapt those pranks.  
  
"Oh, we would not do that! Uncle Ardeth does not trust Imhotep, Mr Rick. He frightens me and he frightens Alex," Darius said very seriously. The eight year old glared at his younger friend. Alex didn't like to admit being afraid, and to Darius, being afraid was being wise. He was just a child, but he was a Med-jai child. Darius added, returning Alex's glare with a scowl of his own, "I will not ask him for help."  
  
"You, Darius, are smart. . .you're gonna grow up to be just like your uncle Ardeth," Rick said. It was on the tip of his tongue to add that he hoped Darius would have a better sense of humor than his uncle, until he remembered the mischievous streak which Ardeth developed lately. Instead, Rick continued, "Listen. Whenever you two pull whatever stunt you intend to pull, I wanna tell your uncle that I don't know. So, I'm gonna leave now."  
  
"Okay, Dad. . .how is Mum?" Alex asked cheerfully. Rick glared at his son for the reminder about Rick's disgrace in front of the warriors. And then he glared at Jonathan for his snickers. Unfortunately, just because it was that kind of day for Rick O'Connell, Jonathan just snorted and started laughing in earnest. Rick responded with a full-fledged glare, which wasn't working on his brother-in-law either.  
  
Rick gave up. He wondered if Ardeth felt like this when his womenfolk ganged up on him, and decided he probably did. After all, he grew up with two sisters, plus Altair Bey. And that last lady was enough to make any man tremble in terror, even big bad Imhotep. Rick told his son, "She's fine. She's helping Celia and the other ladies with sewing for the wedding. Celia wants me to find a horse trader, so she can buy horses to give to the Med-jai as a dowry."  
  
"Oh, that is very good! Auntie Celia need not provide a dowry, since she is a widow, but the Elders will be pleased with her!" Darius piped up, adding, "Some of them do not think Auntie Celia can bring anything to the Med-jai. I do not tell my uncle. . .he would be very angry."  
  
That was a nice way of putting things! Alex blurted out, "For cripes sake, Miss Celia helped to stop Khaldun, and they don't think she can do anything for Ardeth? They're stupid." This was pronounced with all the contempt an eight year old could muster. Darius didn't seem offended by this insult, for he nodded. However, Rick decided it would be a very good idea to leave now, before he heard something he didn't want to. . .or gave the boys any further ideas. 


	3. I think we're alone now

Wow! Nice group of reviews! Keep it up! The more reviews I get, the quicker I post the next sections!  
  
Deana: Trust me, up until the day she died, Ardath knew how lucky she was. And when she gets older, Miranda will realize how lucky she is, too!  
  
Sailor Elf: Hello and welcome! Ardeth is VERY handsome, isn't he? I often tell my best friend that the man is my idea of the ultimate romantic hero.  
  
Cindy: Then you'll really enjoy this. . .there's a lot more of Ardeth, Celia and Miranda interacting as a family!  
  
Nefertirioc: Well, hello there and welcome back! Is this soon enough, in terms of updating? I'm honestly not sure how much of a chance I'll have to update this week, since my brother, sister-in-law and sixteen year old nephew will be in. Fortunately, this is a much shorter story than 'The Forever Friends.' We're almost halfway through it already, and I'm working on the third story in the series, called 'What Might Have Been.'  
  
Part Two  
  
Ardeth Bey thoroughly enjoyed the last hour. Not only was he spending time with Miranda, but he was teaching her to ride. Such lessons provided him with some of his best childhood memories, for his father taught him to ride. He hoped Miranda would have similar memories as an adult. Beforehand, he requested Celia's permission. While Ardeth loved Miranda as if she was his, he was not yet her father in legal terms.  
  
As Ardeth drew the stallion to a halt, Hanif approached. The young Med-jai held out his arms for the little girl, a smile appearing as the child told him about riding in the desert, how pretty the horse was, and they saw her Uncle Rick. Hanif did not laugh through the child's narrative. But he almost lost his composure when Miranda mentioned seeing Rick O'Connell. Though things improved between the Carnahan-O'Connell clan and the Med-jai, many warriors still had little use for the American. . .including Hanif.  
  
"Is my bride with my sisters and mother?" Ardeth asked the young warrior, holding out his arms to Miranda. Hanif inclined his head, returning the little girl to the chieftain. With a smile, Ardeth flipped the little girl in mid-air, making her laugh, then set her atop his shoulders. Ardeth continued, "My thanks, Hanif. . . Miranda and I shall see to her mother." Once more, Hanif inclined his head, a smile appearing, then Ardeth headed toward his mother's tent.  
  
He knew better than to barge in. Rather, he knocked on the tent pole and waited until his mother beckoned him inside. Ardeth swung Miranda from his shoulders and ducked into the tent. As he did, he had the pleasure of seeing his Celia smile at him. Now that he had a wife. . .or would soon. . . Ardeth understood the reluctance of O'Connell to leave her. Ardeth smiled back and asked, "I was wondering if I might have the pleasure of Celia's company, Mother?"  
  
"Of course. . .so long as you take Miranda with you as a chaperone," his mother answered serenely. If she expected an argument, she was mistaken. Ardeth merely held out his hand to his intended, and Ardeth's mother added, "Go, child. Acacia can do the work for a while. You need a break." Celia put down her sewing and took Ardeth's hand, with Miranda holding onto his other. Together, the family stepped into the heat of the Saharan afternoon.  
  
Celia swung Miranda into her arms, settling her on her hip as she walked beside Ardeth. He was still trying to believe that this was happening to him. When he stopped and thought about the changes in his life during the last few months, it took his breath away. As did the love he felt for this woman and this child. Ardeth smiled, listening as Miranda excitedly told Celia about riding the horse and all of their adventures that day.  
  
The adults said nothing, simply walked hand in hand. Eventually, after Miranda wound down, Celia began to tell her daughter about what they would be doing for the wedding. As the little girl began nodding off, Ardeth said softly, "I think perhaps it is time the little one took another nap. Would you mind terribly, Miranda, if I spend time alone with your mother?" Miranda lifted her head sleepily from Celia's shoulder.  
  
"You aren't gonna do really grown-up stuff?" she asked somewhat suspiciously. Ardeth and Celia exchanged a look, Ardeth seeing his own question reflected in Celia's eyes. Really grown up stuff? Miranda continued, "I mean, you're just gonna kiss, right? 'Cause Uncle Rick says. . ." Her voice trailed off, her eyes switching from one adult to the other.  
  
"No, honey, we'll probably talk more than anything else. Ardeth needs to tell me some things about the wedding ceremony and stuff like that," Celia said, quietly reassuring her daughter. Over the little girl's head, Celia mouthed, 'tell you in a few minutes.' Ardeth nodded. Yes. And then he would have a few things to say to O'Connell about watching his mouth around his daughter! Ardeth stopped mentally and realized what he just thought.  
  
But Miranda's words distracted him, as the little girl said, "Oh. That's different, then. Mommy, can I go back to Damara's tent?" Celia shook her head, and Miranda asked, a slight whine in her voice, "But why not?" Ardeth didn't see Celia's face, but he did see Miranda's. He could handle evil of all sorts, but he was a pushover with Miranda.  
  
"No, Miranda Christabel. . .she's asleep. She was getting very cranky and needed her nap," Celia answered in a quiet, firm voice. Her 'Mum' voice, Jonathan called it, adding that it always made him check and see if his hands were clean. Garai's answer was that it was the same tone Ardeth employed when his patience with a recalcitrant warrior was running thin. Which raised questions in Ardeth's mind; however, those questions could wait for an answer.  
  
And as it always did with those warriors, the tone did its job on the little girl. Miranda looked over at him expectantly, as if she knew how easy it would be to wrap him around her little pinky finger. Ardeth gazed back silently, hoping she didn't push further. His wish was granted. Miranda fell silent, leaning her head back against Celia's shoulder, and asked, "Then can I stay with Aunt Evy and Gramma Altair?"  
  
"I think we could arrange that," came Celia's reply. She grinned up at Ardeth, and the chieftain had the uneasy sense that his intended knew exactly what he was thinking. Uneasy, because he was still unused to someone aside from his mother or siblings reading him that well. The pair returned Miranda to Ardeth's mother, who was quite happy about having another granddaughter to spoil rotten.  
  
His mother accepted the sleepy little girl with a knowing smile. Ardeth blushed as she whispered, "At last, my middle son sneaks off to enjoy time with a young lady. I worried about you, my Ardeth." Celia made a strange noise, but when he looked at her, she was only smiling faintly. He eyed her suspiciously. . .she looked too innocent for his liking. Like one of his sisters, after they pulled a prank. But he could question her later.  
  
"We shall return later, Mother," he replied. What else could he say? His mother only nodded, stroking Miranda's hair as the little girl snuggled against her. With what remained of his dignity, the chieftain rose to his feet and held out his hand to Celia. She took it, then they left the tent. Ardeth did not release her hand as they walked toward the corral. He learned that Celia was inexperienced on horses. . .but she was learning.  
  
In silence, they each prepared their horses, but the silence felt neither heavy nor strained. No words needed to be expressed, and Celia felt no need to fill the silence with unimportant things. It was only after they had both mounted, and he looked at her for the third time, that she finally asked, "Ardeth, what's bothering you? Is it what we talked about last night? And if nothing's bothering you, why are you constantly looking at me?"  
  
For a split second, Ardeth thought about making a flippant remark. It was what O'Connell would have done. However, that wasn't whom he was, and it wasn't whom she was. And Ardeth could only give her the truth. He answered, "I spent my entire life looking for you, without realizing I was looking. I wish to make sure that you are real, my Celia. That you are real, and that I am alive."  
  
She looked at him, murmuring, "Ardeth, I am as real as you are. I'll not leave you." Ardeth ducked his head, nudging his horse forward. The pair were silent as they cantered through the gate of the corral. Once they were away from the camp, Celia put her hand on his thigh and said, "I know you're afraid you won't be a good father, or a good husband, but you'll be fine. I have faith in you." Ardeth freed one hand from the reins to take Celia's hand. As much as he loved this woman, he was afraid he wouldn't be a good husband. He had twelve tribes to lead.  
  
When would he have time to spend with Celia and their children? What was he thinking, marrying a woman, no matter how much he loved her? Yes, he had his obligation to the Med-jai, providing heirs and training the next generation. But. . . Ardeth's train of thought was stopped when Celia's hand slipped out of his, coming to rest on his thigh once more. She said softly, "I think we should finish the conversation we started last night. I know I didn't do a very good job of reassuring you." Ardeth nodded, though he had no intention of picking up that conversation. Instead, they picked up the pace. Their destination was not far. It was his favorite childhood sanctuary, and a place Ardeth wanted to take Celia for many days.  
  
Once they reached the oasis, Ardeth dismounted first, then helped Celia down, before leading her to a pool. Ardeth sat down, removing his turban. He told Celia, who sat down beside him, "When I was a child, this was my favorite place to play. It was quiet, for few others knew about it. Only my father and my mother. In fact, one of the last conversations I had with my father, was here." Celia said nothing, making herself more comfortable beside him.  
  
Ardeth ran his fingers through his hair, saying softly, "I was thirteen years old, becoming interested in. . .well, you understand." He was rewarded with a warm smile, and continued, "My father realized this, and brought me here. He. . .he told me that this place was important to him and my mother. He paused, then said he was not certain if this was an appropriate conversation to have with his son, who would always be his little boy, but it was necessary."  
  
Ardeth swallowed hard, remembering. He was oddly mature at thirteen, or so his mother said. Ardeth didn't know what that meant. He just knew that when Suleiman told him that he would always be his little boy, it was his way of telling Ardeth how much he loved him. Celia quietly took his hand and he continued, "You see, my Celia. . .this is where I was conceived. And this was where I had my last conversation with my father."  
  
"What else did he tell you?" Celia asked softly, her eyes filled with a compassion which Ardeth found painful to see. She didn't pity him, he knew that. Ardeth knew the love of both of his parents, for his entire life. She knew her mother's love only at the end of Madeleine's life, and at the beginning of Miranda's. But there was compassion for words spoken and words never said. Something which she understood all too well.  
  
"There are times, Celia, when you speak to your daughter, and say not a word, yes?" Ardeth asked. Celia nodded and Ardeth continued, "My father. . .I was too young to understand, but I held such a conversation with my father. He told me without words, how deeply he loved me. And do you know what is truly strange? I did not remember that last conversation with my father, until my mother told you stories of my childhood."  
  
Her fingers tightened around his, and Ardeth looked down at their hands. Then he looked into her eyes, and saw only love there. He murmured, "I am afraid, Cecelia. I am so afraid that I will fail you. I cannot make you my first priority. . .that must be my people. I. . ."  
  
She silenced him, her fingers on her free hand covering his lips, then answered, "I have been no one's priority for a long time, Ardeth. You know that. I can live with being your second or third priority. As long as you come back to me, that is all that matters. And speaking of failing someone. . .I'm afraid of failing you. As the unmarried women keep reminding me, I'm American, not Med-jai. There is so much I don't know. I'm afraid that I won't be a good wife."  
  
It stunned him, that she worried about that. They were not yet married, and yet, she already found ways to take care of him. He whispered, pulling her fingers away from his lips to hold that hand as well, "You will find your place among the Med-jai, my Celia. That will come, as my people realize what your talents and skills are. But in the meantime. . . Do you not know how well you take care of me?" She looked away from him, and Ardeth released one of her hands to cup her chin.  
  
"You take very good care of me already, my Celia. Even the warriors who resent you for being an American admit that, begrudgingly. Garai has told all the warriors about how you remind me to eat without saying a word," Ardeth replied. She blushed. Ardeth knew that his mother gave her the idea, but that wasn't the point. Celia brought a tray of food into the tent during a meeting with the Commanders two days before.  
  
Not a word was said. . .she merely slipped into the tent, deposited the tray in the circle of men, and then left. The new commander of the Geban tribe, a man ten years older than Ardeth, inclined his head solemnly toward the American woman as she left the tent. The tray was placed in the middle of the men, allowing them all access. . .but the idea was to make sure Ardeth didn't go without food, as he often did. And it worked.  
  
"I told you. . .that was your mother's idea," Celia told him. Ardeth didn't care. She was already finding ways to take care of him, and he often didn't realize it until much later. She was silent for several moments, then asked almost conversationally, "So. Do you want to beat the tar out of Rick O'Connell when we get back, or may I?" Ardeth laughed, wrapping his arm around her. She lay her head on his shoulder.  
  
He whispered, "My Celia, it would give me great pleasure to see something so entertaining. Perhaps I could convince you to do that for our wedding ceremony?" He was rewarded with soft laughter, and her arms slipped around his waist. She tilted her head back until Ardeth's lips grazed her forehead, then finally her lips. For the next few moments, there was silence as they finally kissed each other properly.  
  
When Ardeth pulled back, Celia smiled and said softly, "Hello, my love. I've missed you." He missed her. He kept reminding himself that soon, they would have forever. This time, she kissed him, and Ardeth sighed against her mouth. When he was with her. . . Ardeth pulled back, as something occurred to him. Celia frowned, asking, "Ardeth? What's wrong, darlin,' is something. . ." She never finished her sentence, for Ardeth kissed her again.  
  
This time, he pulled back to whisper, "You are my sanctuary, Celia. I need not this oasis. Only to be with you." Ardeth struggled to find the words which properly explained his feelings, but it turned out to be unnecessary. Celia's eyes softened and he whispered, "Come. I will keep my word to your daughter, and leave the 'really grown up stuff' until our wedding night. But there is a different delight for us here." Celia grinned when he quoted her daughter.  
  
Ardeth carefully removed his boots. Frowning curiously, Celia did the same, then her eyes strayed to the pool beside which they were sitting. Then her hazel eyes lit up, along with a second smile. Ardeth always knew his Celia was a smart one. Ardeth rolled his black trousers up to his knees, grateful that he was wearing his tunic, rather than his robes. Then he eased himself into the pool.  
  
Celia found it more difficult, but he knew she would find a way. She did. She hiked up her skirt, until it was bunched at her waist, then pulled the excess material through the waistband. Of course. His Celia always found a way. She slid into the water, giving a little squeak which he found adorable. Then she frowned at him and said melodramatically, "It isn't fair!" Ardeth raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Celia pouted, "Your feet are even pretty! It isn't fair!"  
  
More than a little confused, Ardeth looked down at his feet, then almost yelped in shock as Celia looped her fingers around his belt and yanked him toward her. She was a small woman, about a foot shorter than himself, but the element of surprise worked in her favor. It wasn't the first time, nor would it be the last time. She whispered as she wrapped her arms around his waist and rocked onto her toes to kiss him, "Gotcha."  
  
Ardeth whispered before allowing himself to succumb to her kiss, "Yes, my Celia, you do have me." *And the gods willing, you always will,* he thought. Then there was no room for thought, only the passion which grew between them every day. This wasn't why he brought her here, but it was not such a bad activity for this place. Ardeth felt his father's presence from the moment he dismounted, and knew him to be pleased.  
  
. . .  
  
Altair said, when she first arrived at the Med-jai encampment after the battle with Khaldun, that she would find her place. Celia was aware that Altair was still cautious with her, but she could understand why. Ardeth had a difficult job as the Med-jai leader, and at times, Celia had a difficult time holding her tongue. It sometimes seemed that many of the Commanders were overgrown children.  
  
She held her tongue, because she didn't know what else to do. And Altair, though wary, helped her. Perhaps she understood Celia's struggles to do right by her fiancé, and perhaps it was just one former outsider understanding how a new outsider saw things. In some ways, it was like small towns in the States. You were regarded with caution and even suspicion, because people had reason to be wary. It took time to establish trust. She earned Ardeth's trust, and the trust of his siblings. She just had to be patient.  
  
Ardeth settled himself beside her, looking very tired, and Celia chose not to bring up the subject of their wedding. Instead, she scooted behind him, kneading his shoulders. He needed to relax and rest, not field her questions. Answers would come. She whispered, "Just rest, love. . .let me take care of you." There was the barest hint of a nod as she massaged his shoulders, and a soft gasp when her fingers found a knot.  
  
*Let me take care of you.* Funny, how often she said that to Ardeth. The man who rescued everyone else, usually at the risk of his own life. It was becoming clear to her that she had quite a challenge ahead of her, but Celia didn't mind. He would be taking care of her as well, her and her daughter. As she told him repeatedly, it would be the first time in years that she was a priority to anyone.  
  
Celia leaned forward and gently kissed the side of his head, murmuring, "I can see I'll have my hands full with taking care of you, m'love. Being stubborn may actually work in my favor." She felt, rather than heard, him laugh, and Celia kissed the side of his head again. She massaged the tight muscles in his shoulders and neck. Ardeth murmured something, which sounded like 'papa,' and Celia wondered if she should ask.  
  
However, it wasn't necessary, because she saw what he did. Celia stopped massaging Ardeth's shoulders. She knew from her fiancé that this was a special place. And she also knew, from Altair, that Ardeth bore a striking resemblance to his father. When Ardath and Celia were joined, Ardath did something which allowed Celia to see things that others could not. And now, she was seeing a man who looked much like Ardeth seated across the pool, a young boy at his side.  
  
The marks were absent, but Celia knew he was a thirteen year old Ardeth. She was seeing her beloved, and his father, during the last time Suleiman Bey brought his son to this oasis. She could see how painfully earnest that boy was, his dark eyes focused on his father as if seeking some great secret. Or a wisdom just past the boy's understanding. Or maybe, what he truly sought was his father's love and approval, but was too young to know what to truly look for.  
  
Celia studied the boy's face, seeing in him the man he would become. Her heart contracted. When he was thirteen years old, she was ten. Her grandfather was still alive, and often, Celia would take Jason to their grandparents' house when their father spun out of control. How different their lives were, hers and Ardeth's. The chieftain's son, now sitting beside his father in an oasis, and the daughter of a tycoon.  
  
And yet, here they were. She wasn't sure she believed in destiny. She was raised to believe that people made their own destiny, and yet, how could she deny what she saw and experienced here in Egypt? How could she deny the way things came full circle at Hamunaptra, where everything, indeed, began? She couldn't. Any more than she could deny what she was seeing now the thirteen year old version of her beloved and his father.  
  
The father whose resemblance to Ardeth took her breath away. There was more gray in the older chieftain's hair, but Suleiman was forty when he died. She knew Ardeth closely resembled his father, but it was different from seeing it for herself. The knowledge drove the air from her lungs, for she understood the reason for Altair's overprotectiveness toward Ardeth. To see your husband every time you looked at your son, and know that you might lose him in the exact same way. . .  
  
How did Altair do it? How did she cope with that knowledge? Altair gave birth to three sons. . .Andreas, Ardeth, and Anatol. Three boys who would grow up to be warriors, more than likely. Celia knew that there were other Med-jai who were not warriors, such as Ardeth's late uncle Terrence. But, all three boys became warriors. Altair, who already buried her husband, buried her oldest son only four years later.  
  
Though her relationship with her mother-in-law remained wary, Celia could appreciate her courage and her strength. How could she not, knowing what Celia knew about the Med-jai?  
  
Altair daily faced the fear that she would lose her two remaining sons. How did she do it? And would Celia have that same courage, when the time came? Would she find it necessary to bury her husband and her son? Where would she find the courage she needed? Not for the first time, Celia wondered if she would be good enough for Ardeth when the time came. He wasn't the only one plagued by fear and self-doubts as their wedding approached.  
  
Suleiman looked at her, his dark eyes filled with wisdom and sadness. He smiled, his son's smile, and inclined his head to her. Then his eyes shifted to his grown son. Celia could have cried, seeing the love and pride in that gaze. Love. . .pride. . . regret. She wasn't entirely certain about the reasons for that regret, but she could make a guess. Regret for missed opportunities, perhaps? Wasn't that often the way of it?  
  
Suleiman looked back at Celia, and she didn't need to close her eyes to hear him in her soul. Years ago, Celia's grandmother observed that there were times when a woman got along with her father in law better than her mother in law. Annabelle didn't offer an explanation, but simply repeated it when her ten year old granddaughter asked again. It was just one of those things. So many years later, Celia understood that truth.  
  
She heard Suleiman say, *Your own father regrets his missed opportunities, child. Like me, he has no second chances. So take the chances you have, with your daughter, with your brother, with Ardeth. Love my son. Take care of him. Believe in him. . .tell him each day that you believe in him, for that was one thing I never did. I should have done. Trust in him. I know you can do these things, for I have watched you.*  
  
It almost frightened her, that this man was watching her. Suleiman gave her an impish smile, adding, *Be not afraid, little one. I can only see what you are doing, not what you are thinking about doing with my son.* Now Celia's face burned with embarassment, and Suleiman laughed. He continued, *We are a practical people, Cecelia Ferguson Bey. Such things are to be enjoyed, not a source of shame.*  
  
She bowed her head, in acknowledgement and in gratitude. He called her 'Cecelia Ferguson Bey,' though she was not yet wed to his son. Which meant he accepted her as his son's wife. Then something else occurred to her. He spoke of her father. Yes. Her father's missed opportunities, and his regrets. She looked up at him sharply once more, to find a pleased smile now decorating his face.  
  
*You learn quickly, beloved of my son. Yes. I spoke truly. Your father does regret many things, not the least of which was that he was never a good father to you or young Jason. That lack made you into the woman you are today, but he cannot forgive himself for that,* Suleiman told her. Celia's eyebrows shot up in surprise. Her father regretted things? Regretted things both done and not done?  
  
A memory flashed through her mind. She was four or five years old, around the same age as Miranda. She was half-asleep in her grandmother's lap as her father ranted that he didn't know what to do with a girl. He wanted a son, not a daughter!  
  
She shied away from that memory, even as she shied away from Suleiman's words. She was not ready to deal with the possibilities. Not ready to forgive her father, when she was still struggling to forgive Jason. She started in the now-buried Hamunaptra, yes, with his apology. But relations remained strained between the brother and sister, and Celia had no idea how to meet her brother halfway. Though he knew Ardeth was not their enemy, he still regarded Celia's fiancé with wariness and distrust.  
  
*Give it time, little one,* Suleiman counseled, *your brother will find his way back to you, when he is ready. But for now, you have my son's heart in your hands. Take care with it. And should you ever need me, I will be there.* He stood, reaching his hand for his young son, and both disappeared. Celia found she had nothing to say, and instead, wrapped her arms around her intended. She had so much to think about. She only hoped that she had the time she needed.  
  
. . .  
  
Suleiman Bey supposed it could be said his appearance at the oasis was his way of welcoming Celia Ferguson to the family. Unlike his beloved wife, Suleiman had access to certain information about the girl who would be their daughter-in-law, about her family, and about the future. Like most in the Afterlife, Suleiman could see somewhat into the future. . .for in the Afterlife, the lines between past, present, and future blurred.  
  
If he but closed his eyes, he could again feel the warm weight of his newborn son in his arms, and hear his wife's quiet declaration that she wanted to name him after Lady Ardath. He told her, when they were first married, that the young concubine's son was 'Ardeth.' At that time, Altair expressed a desire to name a child after either that young woman or her son, the first Med-jai chieftain. When Andreas was born, and she chose to name him after her father, Suleiman thought she forgot about her observation to him.  
  
She forgot nothing. His young wife simply chose to name their second son after that mother and son. Lady Ardath and the first Ardeth Bey were analogous among the Med-jai to Isis and Horus, perhaps because they were also linked to Osiris. Or, because Horus and Isis were the chosen Guardians of the Med-jai people. They were so for many centuries, and Suleiman did nothing to change that, in spite of his father's desire for all Med-jai to convert to Islam.  
  
There were Muslims among the Med-jai since the eighth century, as the Christians called it. Many of them were Sufis, and became scholars of the Med-jai, keeper of their secrets. But forty mortal years earlier, when Suleiman was just a young warrior, his father wished for all twelve tribes to be united under Islam. It would aid them in dealing with other tribes.  
  
Some Med-jai did convert to Islam, and remained part of their nation. But Suleiman and Altair raised their five children to revere the ancient gods. Altair was originally Orthodox, until she married Suleiman, when she chose to rediscover the Greek gods and goddesses, many of whom were also revered among the Med-jai. Particularly in the Geban tribe, which was comprised mainly of Greco-Egyptians.  
  
Med-jai history was pushed aside as Suleiman turned his attention back to his son. Aywa, Suleiman spent much time watching Ardeth. But this was the first time in twenty mortal years that he returned here. He cursed himself often for not speaking his heart. What a coward he was! Facing Imhotep's minions was so much easier than telling his young son how very much he loved him, and how proud he was of him.  
  
And yet, despite Suleiman's own failures as a father, Ardeth knew how much his parents loved him. How was that possible? Certainly, his second son came to that truth as an adult, when he looked back over his life. It took him some time to understand what Suleiman said to him, but he understood. He understood better than Andreas ever did. And like his wife, it hurt Suleiman to see what Andreas would have done to the Med-jai.  
  
Even at thirteen, Ardeth would have been a more fitting leader for the Med-jai than his eighteen year old brother. And yet, Suleiman knew that he could not have named his younger son as his heir. The Asu tribe alone would have never stood for it, when Ardeth was not yet a warrior. And it wasn't that Andreas led poorly, for the Med-jai didn't suffer terrible losses in the raids to protect Hamunaptra.  
  
It was just that he was so impulsive! Suleiman couldn't fault his son for wanting to make Lock-nah pay for what he did to Acacia. But he could, and did, fault his son for the way he went about it. He did not heed his level-headed brother's words of caution, and got himself killed while Ardeth and Anatol watched in horror. That was the other thing he did wrong. He should have never taken a nine year old boy with him. Yes, Suleiman knew how badly Andreas could have hurt the Med-jai.  
  
It hurt Andreas as well. Suleiman heard him cry out while Garai told the Med-jai of his dream, what would have come to pass if Andreas led the Med-jai during the first rising of Imhotep. For even as Garai related his dream, the gods ever so thoughtfully provided images to match the words. They watched in horror as Ardeth died in his older brother's arms, and Suleiman heard his older son weeping from the knowledge that his own arrogance would have cost his brother his life.  
  
Andreas was always a good son, and a good brother. He was vehemently protective of his younger siblings, and when he went after Lock-nah, there was no hesitation. The renegade hurt his little sister, raped her. There was no room for forgiveness for such a despicable act. Unfortunately, he was young and hot-headed, as impulsive as his younger brother was serious. It was that impulsiveness which led to his death, which would have led to his brother's death, and the destruction of their people.  
  
Andreas admitted that he was stupid, and sometimes shut down when he recalled his stupidity. Suleiman knew, for he heard his son's thoughts. The late chieftain heard Andreas rail against his stupidity, against the accident of birth which made him the first-born. He knew, just as well as Suleiman, that a thirteen year old chieftain would have never been accepted. And he knew that he should have never been a chieftain himself.  
  
Suleiman asked, //So, what do you think of your new sister?// Andreas tore his eyes away from Ardeth with difficulty. Or rather, away from the sight of Ardeth kissing his fiancee. Suleiman's older son resembled a small boy at the moment, with his dark eyes very, very wide. Perhaps he was surprised by this new side of his little brother. Suleiman bit back a smile. Well, what did Andreas expect?  
  
As was mentioned by more than one person, Ardeth *was* a very passionate young man. Then again, perhaps Suleiman had more time to become accustomed to that reality. He wasn't entirely sure which was more difficult. Knowing that his little boy grew up and become a man, or knowing that his little brother was no longer the child who followed him with dark, worshipful eyes. It should have been the former, but Andreas was a little strange in that respect. It wasn't hard for Suleiman, accepting that Terrence and Nassor grew into men with their own desires, but Andreas was another story entirely.  
  
//Father, has she put a spell on him?// Andreas finally asked. Suleiman stared at his eldest son, and Andreas waved his hand toward the young couple, continuing, //Look at him, Father, he's not behaving like himself at all!// It was then, and only then, that Suleiman saw a mischievous light in his eldest son's eyes. The man cuffed his son lightly in the back of his head, as Andreas chortled, "Oh, Father! You should have seen the look on your face!"  
  
Suleiman muttered a few curses under his breath, still glaring at his oldest, and Andreas continued, "It's high time my little brother stopped being so serious! It was starting to ruin his personality. I just wish he wasn't marrying an American." Suleiman shrugged, and Andreas continued, "On the other hand, Lady Ardath was from Europe originally, and she helped to create our bloodline. Maybe it's only fitting that another foreigner is her reincarnation."  
  
"Celia will rise or fall as a Med-jai queen, based on her abilities and her own limitations. She needs the reminders of her past as much as your brother does. Not at all," Suleiman answered. He looked at his second son, whose memories of Ramseses were still foggy. He hoped that would remain so, but he knew better. After a moment, the former chieftain continued, "Fortunately, our women are willing to accept her, because she makes Ardeth happy. She still has much work to do with the rest of the Asu tribe, much less the rest of the Med-jai."  
  
Andreas gave a mock gasp of shock, saying, "Father! You know we have no queens or kings!" Suleiman gave his son a Look, and the boy added, laughing, "And I thought Ardeth was too serious! That was a joke, Father, I knew what you meant." Suleiman shook his head, smiling faintly. Andreas looked back at his brother, adding, "I hope she doesn't distract him too much from his duties." He sounded serious this time, and a quick glance confirmed that he *was.*  
  
Now Suleiman did laugh, saying, "My son! That is part of her job while taking care of your brother. She is supposed to distract him, else he will become overwhelmed. No, if we should fear anything, it should not be her influence where our sacred duty is concerned. And understand me, my son. Imhotep is no longer a threat, but Khaldun will be for quite some time. No, she will not intervene with Hamunaptra. Rather, she will make her voice known with O'Connell." Andreas just smirked.  
  
"Father," he said, looking at the young woman with Ardeth, "perhaps I will come to like this little American Fury after all." Andreas looked back at him, his dark eyes twinkling with barely suppressed laughter, and added, "Can you imagine, Father, what she will do to O'Connell the first time he angers her?" Suleiman didn't have to imagine. He could see the somewhat immediate future. . .and he knew it wouldn't be a pretty sight.  
  
. . .  
  
As Andreas and Suleiman debated about the choices made and things to come, another brother was dealing with another set of problems. Some were more easily rectified than others. He made his decision weeks earlier, when he first found out that his sister would be marrying Ardeth Bey. He would not interact with the Med-jai people, and as soon as Celia was wed to her beloved chieftain, he would return to the United States. Jason Ferguson was uncomfortable with the Med-jai, uncomfortable with Egypt, and everything which happened over the last few months. Moreover, he was uncomfortable with the changes in his sister.  
  
Actually, that wasn't entirely true. Jason was far more uncomfortable with the changes in himself. His possession at the hands of Khaldun opened doors that frightened him. Made him aware of things about himself that made him ashamed. He was so stupid, and while he and Celia spent the last few weeks rebuilding their deeply strained relationship, it would be a long time before Jason could forgive himself for his stupidity.  
  
He almost got his sister killed. As they returned to the Med-jai camp, Jason learned that Celia almost died from heat exhaustion and dehydration. How many deaths did he cause? Khaldun used him to kill so many people. There were the five men sent after him. There were the three Med-jai who accompanied Ardeth to Hamunaptra, when Khaldun jumped from Jason to Ardeth.  
  
And there were the four Med-jai who had sought answers about their brethren, who had also died. All told, that was twelve people dead, and there would have been more if Khaldun hadn't overreached himself. Jason meant, of course, his steps to resurrect Imhotep. The victim of the hom- dai, and possibly the only person who had any clue how Jason felt. It was only now, three thousand years later, that Imhotep was starting to grasp what sort of effects his actions had.  
  
Not just for himself and Anck-su-namun, not just for the Med-jai, but for everyone whom Imhotep had loved in that time. He could have died, after Celia broke the hom-dai with Ardeth's blood and her own. He could have finally been at peace, but he chose to live instead. Jason wanted to know why. In Imhotep's position, Jason knew that he would have chosen death. And the high priest couldn't answer his question.  
  
Just as Jason couldn't answer Imhotep's questions, about why he did such things to his own sister. Imhotep had a very hard time understanding that, and Jason couldn't explain how jealous he was of his sister. But, on the other hand, it seemed that jealousy was something which Imhotep understood quite well, for jealousy drove his hatred of Seti. So perhaps, they did understand each other after all.  
  
Still, Jason watched him in silence as Imhotep struggled with this strange world. No longer was he interested in ruling it. . .just understanding it. Jason wished him luck. There were times when Jason himself didn't understand it, and he lived in this world for twenty-five years. He couldn't imagine the world of three thousand years earlier, so he was the last person to ask. Jason told him that, and Imhotep answered in his halting English, "Perhaps I should ask your sister to explain this time and place to me, then."  
  
Jason found his latent protective instincts balking at that, the ones he found anew when Khaldun assumed control of his body, and Imhotep continued, looking almost amused, "Do not be afraid, child, for I have no wish to harm her. She broke the hom-dai, she freed me. I would never hurt her." Of course he wouldn't. Everyone knew what Anck-su-namun did to people who hurt the reincarnation of her best friend. Jason still fumed at being called a 'child,' but he could hardly argue with a man who was three thousand years older than himself.  
  
Besides, Jason learned something very important while under Khaldun's control. A person could learn a great deal by keeping quiet, and watching others. Or, as Imhotep said when Jason told him, it was easier to learn when one's mouth was closed. After that remark, the young American wished Imhotep was his father. He learned more from the former mummy in a few weeks than from his own old man in years.  
  
By listening and watching, Jason learned that Ardeth Bey and Jason's sister genuinely loved each other. Jason was still figuring that out, since they were groping toward a friendship before Jason's betrayal. However, he knew Celia felt safe with Ardeth Bey. Trust and common ground were very necessary ingredients to love. Somewhere between the bazaar and the final confrontations in Hamunaptra, trust and common ground gave way to love. It was not something which either of them sought. But it was there, and neither was about to let go of the other. Something which Jason saw for himself while trapped by Khaldun.  
  
Then there was Miranda, who adored Ardeth. His niece trusted the Med- jai, felt safe with him, and she never felt safe with Jason. He never tried to make her feel safe, only unwanted. She needed a father. His sister did a swell job of taking care of herself, Jason, and Miranda. . .usually with nothing but grief from Jason, and now it was time for someone to take care of her. Jason wished she chose someone who could put her first.  
  
However, Jason also knew that to say such a thing would result in a confrontation with either his sister or Evelyn O'Connell, neither of which he particularly wanted. The one time he insulted Ardeth Bey, the Englishwoman pulled on his ear. The next time, she would probably box his ears, and Jason had no intention of giving her that opportunity. Instead, he silently made himself a promise to take care of his sister in any way he could.  
  
One thing was sure. His days as a spoiled brat were over. He was through being a spoiled brat, through taking his sister for granted, and through with being a hanger-on. He simply didn't have the energy to behave as he had, nor did he have the strength to endure the consequences. Because Jason understood this, above all else. He almost pushed his sister too far, and only one thing prevented him from destroying everything.  
  
He did not want to try her patience further, and that meant he also kept his mouth shut about the amount of time she spent with Ardeth. He shared this observation about this with Imhotep as well, and got a grunted affirmative. It seemed Imhotep was having a hard time accepting what his eyes told him, that Ardeth was the reincarnation of Imhotep's best friend, Ramseses. Then again, Jason supposed it was difficult to accept that your best friend was reincarnated as your worst enemy, your nightmare come true.  
  
While Imhotep spent more time with the Ferguson siblings than with anyone else, that didn't stop Celia from playing kissy-face with her fiancé when she did have a few free moments with him. Only a few minutes earlier, Jason saw them ride out of the village together. More than once, he silently echoed the request for them to 'get a room,' as expressed by O'Connell. It was damned annoying, watching them kiss all the time, and it was downright disgusting to see Celia's expression when a kiss was broken.  
  
What was worse was the shame he always felt, as soon as that thought crossed his mind. Celia was happy. Why wasn't that good enough for him? Why did it stick in his throat, that it was a man like Ardeth Bey who made his sister so happy, and a man like Leslie Carstairs who had betrayed her? Why did it sicken him to see Celia's face light up when she saw Ardeth? Jason knew the answers, of course. And it made him feel worse.  
  
He was jealous. And that was the final reason he was returning to Chicago once his sister was married. It wasn't just because he didn't feel like he belonged here, though that was certainly a part of that. But he didn't like feeling the way he did whenever he looked at Ardeth, knowing how his sister felt about the man. Jason had been humbled, by Ardeth's courage and determination, but he was still damn jealous of the man's power and simply being.  
  
He had to accept his sister's choice, but he didn't like it, and he didn't like the man. Yes, even after the chieftain had almost died, he still didn't like Ardeth Bey. He probably never would, no matter how many times the chieftain put his life on the line for Jason's sister and niece. But as he had for the last several weeks, Jason pulled back. He hadn't fully dealt with what happened inside Hamunaptra, a place which he never wanted to see again. He wasn't ready to do that.  
  
Yeah, he was definitely a coward. He never claimed otherwise. He was not like Celia, whose quiet courage and strength allowed her to rise to the occasion. She was in the middle of being kidnapped in the bazaar, and managed to shout a warning to Ardeth Bey. That still boggled Jason's mind, even months later. He was not like Ardeth Bey, who overcame injury after injury to face Khaldun. Jason witnessed the battle on the spiritual plane between Khaldun and Ardeth. The dual defeats allowed Jason to retake control of his body and restore his soul.  
  
No, he didn't like Ardeth Bey in the least. But Jason couldn't deny that as long as the man drew breath, Jason's sister and niece would be all right. Ardeth would protect them, protect them as Jason never could. Never tried to, if you came right down to it, but Jason wasn't ready to face that, either. Instead, he silently prayed that even as the chieftain took care of Celia and Miranda, he would also cherish them for always, as he did now.  
  
. . .  
  
The last few weeks of mortal time were fascinating for Mathayus, even without the additional entertainment provided by Anck-su-namun. He watched as Ardeth Bey started his recovery, as the Med-jai Elders agreed to accept Celia Ferguson as Ardeth's wife and as the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. He was not permitted to intervene directly, but with his recent aid against Khaldun, he was given leave to help in other ways.  
  
One such way was sending dreams to the Med-jai elders who were the most skeptical that one of their greatest heroines would be reborn as an American. Interestingly enough, the elders who were most skeptical were the ones who revered Lady Ardath the most. That aggravated Anck-su-namun to no small degree, and it took all of the combined will of both Mathayus and Ma'at to keep the fiery concubine from going after the elders as well.  
  
Besides, it was unnecessary, especially after she dropped the tent on the maiden who spit on Celia's boots. The elders quickly realized that Anck-su-namun was as protective of Ardath's reincarnation as she was of Ardath herself. Between that, and all the other evidence, they were finally convinced. Much to the Scorpion King's relief, because if they delayed much longer, they might have found themselves gifted with a visit from Anck-su-namun herself.  
  
Which was not something they would have enjoyed. On the other hand, Mathayus thought he might have enjoyed such a confrontation. Anck-su-namun was not a woman who suffered fools gladly, and she considered the Med-jai elders to be fools. And at this point, people were divided into two categories for Anck-su-namun. Those who treated Celia with kindness and those who did not. He supposed he should be grateful that Imhotep kept to himself. Things could have become unpleasant.  
  
Not that things were easy on that front, as of late. Not at all. But Mathayus knew that both men were trying. Ardeth had thirty years of fear to overcome, and Imhotep had three thousand years worth of fear and hatred. It would not be easy for either man to overcome the past. But he was pleased to see that just as he and Balthasar overcame their mutual distrust, so too were Imhotep and Ardeth making the attempt, and that was always a place to begin. He almost felt sorry for Imhotep, for a variety of reasons.  
  
First, Imhotep learned that his best friend had been reborn as his enemy. That was bad enough, but he next found out that Lady Ardath never forgave him for breaking his promise to watch over Ramseses. Following that was the knowledge that the young concubine wasn't as sweet and spineless as he thought. Yes, he received indications to that shortly before her death, but he never realized how vengeful she could be. Mathayus grinned, recalling Imhotep's face during that confrontation.  
  
Looking back over the last few weeks of mortal time, Mathayus remembered something Ma'at told him, when he marveled at the changes in Celia, in Anck-su-namun, and in Imhotep. It was only moments before Altair Bey told her son about the decision of the elders. Ma'at smiled. . .he could feel her smile in his heart. . .and replied, **My dear Scorpion King, the Americans have a wonderful saying for this situation. You ain't seen nothin' yet!**  
  
Indeed. There were other things to draw his attention, namely the changes in Ardeth and Celia. Falling in love was easy. Building their relationship, especially given the adjustments which they were both making, was much more difficult. At least they had a friendship to form that basis, instead of simple chemistry. Though his own relationship with Cassandra started out as simple chemistry, they were among the fortunate ones, and Mathayus knew it.  
  
Wagering on any relationship was a foolish thing to do. There were so many things which determined the outcome of a person's life. He himself was living. . .or dead. . .proof of that. Who would have believed, five thousand years ago, that the young and compassionate king who showed such promise would end his life as a bloodthirsty tyrant? For him, the loss of his Cassandra began his unraveling.  
  
He did not blame Cassandra. She died saving his life. He blamed himself, and none others, for what he became. Not even the murderers who took his wife from him. It was he who chose his path. Mathayus only hoped that one day, his beloved wife would forgive him as quickly as Ardath forgave her Rameses. Perhaps one day, once he earned his second chance at life, he would be reincarnated and find his sorceress queen.  
  
He would not give up hope. After all, Rameses was eventually reborn as Ardeth Bey, and he found his beloved in this lifetime. It was that example which gave Mathayus hope. If Rameses could be forgiven in time, then so could Mathayus. Once he atoned for his bargain with Anubis, once he proved himself worthy of a second chance in the World of the Living. . .well, they would see. He heard Ma'at say once that humans punished themselves more than any god ever could. He and Rameses demonstrated that truth as few mortals could.  
  
Returning his attention to the young mortal couple, Mathayus knew neither had an easy life, so neither knew how to give up. However, even with that, Celia's patience was running out. It would only take a few attacks against herself, or one more attack against her daughter, then all hell would break loose. Unbeknownst to O'Connell, after Celia and Ardeth calmed down Miranda and explained why the children were so mean to her, Ardeth spent another two hours calming down Celia. That was difficult for him. Mathayus knew it took all of his self-control to keep from flaying alive the warriors who were so thoughtless around their children.  
  
And in the end, justice was restored in a manner of speaking. Now, thanks to the thoughtlessness of the parents and the cruelty of the children, Darius and Damara Bey refused to play with those children, or anyone else who was unkind to their soon-to-be cousin. And no amount of coaxing on Acacia's part could induce either child to back down, nor did the repeated attempts of the mothers of those children to talk sense into the determined nephew and fiery little niece of their chieftain have any effect.  
  
It was amusing to watch that woman try to tell Altair that Darius and Damara were wrong for taking Miranda's side. Regardless of how Altair herself felt about Celia, the matriarch made no secret that she adored her new granddaughter. The stupid woman made no headway with Altair, even as Acacia tried to convince her children that the best way to help Miranda was by playing with those children. She got nowhere as well.  
  
Ardeth did nothing, aside from warn those warriors to be more mindful of their tongues around their wives and their children. However, Anck-su- namun wasn't nearly as benevolent as the chieftain. The mother of two of those children felt the full force of Anck's rage when she insulted Celia, with a series of unexplained little incidents which happened when no one else was around. Mathayus wasn't watching, and Ma'at wouldn't tell him what happened. Which meant he probably didn't *want* to know.  
  
The woman still hadn't learned, and in all likelihood, it would take action on Celia's part before she did learn. Unfortunately, there were bullies in the modern Med-jai as well. And many of them were women. Worse, they were incapable of understanding the consequences. They were attacking the woman whom their chieftain loved. It was only a matter of time before he ran out of patience, and took action himself.  
  
This would be a very *bad* thing to happen, because it would not induce these women to accept Celia. It would, however, force them to understand that Ardeth would not accept such behavior toward his wife. For that reason, Mathayus rather hoped that the young man would lose patience quickly, because he realized that by doing nothing, Ardeth was quietly condoning the way these women treated his intended.  
  
. . .Or not. There was also the matter of Ardeth's own sisters, his younger brother, and his mother. Altair remained wary of Celia, as any mother would be, but quietly supported her future daughter-in-law nonetheless. Acacia and Aleta's friends reached out to the quiet American, and found their tentative efforts repaid. Perhaps, then, Ardeth was doing the right thing by allowing his future wife to deal with this on her own.  
  
The trick would be in convincing Ardeth of that. Mathayus knew he wasn't the man for that job. In these final days before Ardeth's wedding, Mathayus could see clearly why Ardeth never allowed himself to fall in love before. This was the very thing which he feared. And so, he shut off his heart. Mathayus could do nothing to help him, nothing aside from providing support. And that seemed like nothing.  
  
But one of the most important things he learned since Ma'at reclaimed his soul from Anubis was that things were often not what they seemed. He tried to remember that, and tried to remember, too, that support was so important. Especially for a man like Ardeth Bey, who was used to doing things by himself. There were some tasks which no one could do for the chieftain. He had to do those things himself. And it was then that Ardeth needed the most support. When those times came, Mathayus would be there. 


	4. DEFINITELY not the best idea!

Part Three  
  
Back at the oasis, the object of the Scorpion King's scrutiny was relaxing in the arms of his beloved. After they saw his father and the thirteen year old Ardeth, reminding the adult Ardeth of forgotten conversations, neither spoke for a long time. Ardeth had no desire to speak, and even if he did, he didn't know where to begin. For so long, he questioned his abilities as a chieftain, questioned if he was a good enough son.  
  
Those doubts were strongest right after the. . .right after Imhotep rose the first time. Did he fail his father? Did he fail his people? Despite everything, he began to think that he did not. Three times, Imhotep rose and threatened all which Ardeth held dear. Twice they returned Imhotep to his grave. The third time. . .the third time changed everything. Imhotep was more or less human now. The ritual which Celia performed in Hamunaptra shattered the hom-dai, though it did not remove his immortality.  
  
The stories which his mother told Celia revived memories long- forgotten. Not just of his father teaching him to ride, but of that final conversation. The conversation he saw only moments earlier. Celia shattered the hom-dai. Celia provided the impetus for his mother to remind him of his father. Just as everything returned to Lady Ardath, the concubine's modern day namesake was finding something similar happening with his fiancee. And he wondered if Rameses found it as frightening as he did.  
  
But the questions remained. Did he fail his father? No answers came, and at last, Ardeth reluctantly pulled away. There was work to be done. He sighed, echoed by Celia, and smiled at her. They left the pool and put their boots on. Once they were properly attired, the couple mounted their horses. Neither spoke; rather, they simply rode together. They did not touch, as Ardeth was uncomfortable with public displays of affection. And once they left the oasis, they were far more likely to be seen.  
  
Celia understood this, too. She smiled when he tried to explain it to her, tried to explain that it didn't mean that his actions while they were around his people didn't love her. Instead, she told him that she figured that out, and she was grateful that he was letting her deal with most of these problems on her own. As she liked to remind him, she was thirty years old, not a callow girl mooning over a warrior she couldn't have.  
  
Sweet Celia. The women of his family were concerned about her, because she was too sweet, too understanding, and too accomodating. They understood why, but it still worried them. Ardeth remembered a conversation he had with his sister the previous day. Acacia stopped him, asking about wedding plans. They talked about the wedding for a few moments, before Acacia finally told him what troubled her.  
  
Celia was being too nice. Ardeth greeted this remark with a frankly disbelieving stare. Acacia sighed, explaining that his intended was practically bending over backward. While the Med-jai appreciated her attempts, they were finding it very difficult to believe this was the same woman who defeated Khaldun. For that matter, they had yet to see the fiery woman who put Anatol in his place.  
  
Ardeth should have expected *that* story to make the rounds. However, he said only that until someone pushed Celia too far, no one would see the real woman. Even so, he knew Acacia was right. Celia was trying too hard, being too nice and too understanding. But, he didn't know what to do. Ardeth was never in a relationship, and he didn't know if he should speak to his betrothed or let her find her own way.  
  
He and Celia dismounted inside the corral, and Ardeth said softly, "The patrol is due back. I must meet with them." To his gratification, there was disappointment in her eyes, and he added, kissing her forehead, "I will find you when I can. This I swear." He was rewarded with a bright smile, then turned toward his tent. He didn't get far, as a shrill insult in Arabic caught his attention. Ardeth turned back and almost groaned.  
  
It wasn't a maiden. Rather, it was the mother of the children who tormented Miranda, Sanure. She demanded that Acacia force her children to end their friendship with Miranda after the pair refused to play with her two younger children. Ardeth started over, but was stopped by Garai. The old man whispered, "La. Allow Celia to handle this, Ardeth. She knows not what that little viper calls her, but she does know the hatred."  
  
Ardeth stared at the older warrior. His strongest desire was to intervene, but before he could, something happened. He didn't know what, or how the balance of power shifted in Celia's favor. He only knew that as he looked back, Sanure was on her knees in front of Celia, his fiancee's dagger at her throat. Her fingers were twisted in the other's hair, her eyes ablaze. Ardeth blinked, and Garai murmured, "I knew this would happen eventually. Much of Lady Ardath remains."  
  
Ardeth could not argue. His own memories of being Rameses hummed just below the surface, whispering to him about the young concubine's temper. Especially when one was foolish enough to harm those she loved most in the world. Ardeth saw some of that temper as he fought for his life, before being called to face Khaldun. He wasn't unconscious the entire time, though he was sure Evy believed he was.  
  
Ardeth returned his attention back to the present, and the looming danger. But no one approached his intended. Celia growled, her dagger still at Sanure's throat, "I have had just about enough of you, lady. I don't know what the hell you just said to me, but I can bet it wasn't polite or pretty. So I won't be polite or pretty either. You don't like me? Hey, that's fine. . .I don't like you. But I'm not leaving. I'm marrying Ardeth. I love him, he loves me, and I will fight every demon in the Underworld for him."  
  
The Med-jai woman struggled, but the American held firm, her hazel eyes flashing with fury. Celia wound her fingers more tightly into Sanure's hair, hissing, "Hold still, or I'll slit your throat now." Adeth had no doubt that Celia would do so. He wasn't the only one. Sanure stilled, her eyes darting about. Ardeth wondered if he should intervene. Not yet. Tension was building for several weeks, especially after Miranda was involved. It was time this was settled, and he knew he had to let Celia do this.  
  
And speaking of Miranda. . . Ardeth winced as his mother emerged from her tent, carrying Miranda on her hip. The little girl looked at her mother and asked *his* mother something. Garai murmured at his side, "Lady Altair is informing Miranda that the mean lady is she whose children made fun of Miranda. The mean lady also said very, very bad things about Miranda's mother, and that is why Celia holds the knife to her throat."  
  
Ardeth looked at the older man in surprise, and Garai shrugged. He continued with a smile, "Back before you were born, I lost my hearing temporarily, and learned to read lips. I still use it." Ardeth nodded and started to turn his attention back to his intended. . .only to have a very unpleasant thought cross his mind. He looked back at Garai, whose smile broadened further and he added, obviously knowing what troubled Ardeth, "Relax, my chieftain. I would not use it against you or your queen."  
  
Ardeth nodded, eyeing Garai warily, before looked back at Celia. Ardeth's mother was at her side, and made no attempt to stop his betrothed. Instead, she was translating what Celia said up to this point, making sure she didn't sugarcoat any of it. In fact, she was quite blunt. The matriarch gave Celia a little nod, then Celia continued in English, "That goes for everyone. I don't care if you don't like me. There's a number of you whom I don't like. But get used to me, because I'm here to stay."  
  
"Well said, my queen," Garai murmured in ancient Egyptian, "draw your line in the sand, and let all take heed. No one can say that they were not warned about what would happen if they crossed you." Ardeth fought his desire to bite his lip, fearing that it would be noticed, and seen as a sign of weakness. He could afford no weakness. Nor could Celia. He willed himself to remain totally still, and keep his face a stoic mask.  
  
His wife-to-be paused, allowing Ardeth's mother to translate what she said. Once she received a nod, Celia continued, "And quite frankly, you all disappoint me. I thought that Ardeth was loved and respected by his people. That's not what I hear among you. To say as you have, that I have cast a spell over him, is nothing short of disrespectful toward your chieftain. Do you honestly think that someone like me could cast a spell? Much less one which would enthrall someone as strong and fierce as Ardeth?"  
  
"Well, that's an ouchie," Rick O'Connell murmured, slipping to Ardeth's other side. The chieftain nodded. He did not comment, however, and it wasn't really necessary. His old friend continued, "Then again, this has been building for weeks now. It was just a matter of time before she finally lost her patience." Again, Ardeth nodded, listening intently as his mother translated, word for word, what Celia said. From the corner of his eye, the chieftain saw Sanure's husband Rami steaming toward the women.  
  
But before he could reach Celia, Garai released Ardeth and slipped away, blocking the warrior's path. All fell silent at Celia's next words. She all but growled, "And know this. Anyone else who harms my child will face the consequences, which will not include a collapsing tent or anything else Anck-su-namun can dream up. No, you will face me, the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. And whether you know it or not, she was the architect of most of their pranks."  
  
To emphasize her words, Celia jerked Sanure's head. Point taken. Ardeth realized, however, that the crisis was not yet over. He was right. Next, Celia glared at Rami, adding contemptuously, "And as for you. Such a big man you are, encouraging your children to torment someone smaller and weaker than themselves. Such a great warrior, to try to intimidate a child yourself. You are nothing beside the man whom I will marry, for Ardeth Bey would never seek to harm a child as you have!"  
  
"Definite ouchie there. Hate to be the one to tell you this, Ardeth old buddy, but I think Celia's getting close to the danger zone. She may have overstepped her boundaries just then," O'Connell murmured. Ardeth wasn't so sure of that. This day's work would not win her any friends. . .but he was too much of a warrior not to recognize what it did do. Celia just drew a line in the sand, and warned those assembled not to push her. And it was time he gave aid and comfort to the woman whom he chose as his wife.  
  
With that in mind, he stepped away from O'Connell and Garai, and headed for Celia. There was a moment of fear in her eyes, that she went too far, but only a moment. The next moment, there was steely determination, and Ardeth knew that she would stand up to him as well. He whispered to her, "Release her, love, you have made your point." He looked at the dagger, still held against Sanure's throat, and added, "No pun intended."  
  
Celia managed a weak smile and released Sanure. Ardeth looked up, making eye contact with all assembled. Some looked away in shame, others were nodding, while still others were blank-faced. It was this last category whom concerned the chieftain the most. He stared at them steadily, then said clearly, "Hear me well! Do not think that I have not heard your whisperings against the woman I love, because I have taken no action. I have heard. I have simply allowed Celia to handle this as she sees fit."  
  
His mother passed Miranda to him, and Ardeth looked at the warrior now helping his wife to her feet. Rami could barely meet his eyes, though Ardeth wasn't certain if it was from shame or fury. The chieftain thought for a moment, making his next decision. Should he keep going? No. No, it wasn't necessary. He made his point. Instead, he drew Celia more tightly against his body and led her toward the tent they would share after they were married. Ardeth wasn't sure if he should be surprised or amused when O'Connell shifted to stand behind him, his eyes narrowed in a warning.  
  
He chose to be grateful. Ardeth felt Celia trembling, and tightened his arms around her. They were not yet out of the danger zone. Though O'Connell would watch for attacks from behind, Ardeth did not trust Rami. He was young and impetuous. Never mind that he was the same age as Ardeth, that was hardly the point. The man was proud, and he would not be pleased that a foreigner bested his wife. Ardeth himself was proud, but he knew the line between pride and stupidity fairly well.  
  
Rami was another story. If not for fourteen year old Yanit, his niece, Ardeth would have written off the entire family. She was the most stable adult in the family, Ardeth knew, though she was almost young enough to be their daughter. She came to live with the couple after the death of her father, Rami's brother. A glance toward the young girl told Ardeth that Yanit looked utterly ashamed. She returned his gaze, mouthing, 'forgive me.' He would talk to her later. This was not her fault.  
  
And judging from her expression, he would have a hard time convincing her of that. He could see it, in the way she watched her aunt and uncle. She wasn't the only one watching. Even as O'Connell watched from behind, movement out of the corner of his eye told Ardeth that Garai and Hanif were watching the sides. Garai was physically blocking Rami's path, just in case he took it into his head to cause more trouble. Just to be on the safe side, Ardeth would keep an eye on him over the next few weeks as well. It was a terrible thing, discovering that you no longer trusted your own people.  
  
He knew such things would happen, when he fell in love with Celia. Rather, he realized as much when he acknowledged that he was in love with her. It was one reason he struggled with asking her to marry him. There was as time, not so long ago, when Ardeth would have chosen to release Celia. He still wasn't sure if the route he chose was more selfish or not. But Evy's words to him, about allowing Celia to choose for herself, reverberated through his soul. She made her choice.  
  
He looked down at her, wondering if she now regretted that choice. Celia sensed his eyes on her, and looked up at him. She gave him a tiny smile, and what he saw in her expression was not of resentment or regret, but relief. Ardeth remembered what she said earlier, about fearing she would fail in him in some way. Celia was afraid she failed him by pushing back this time, and Ardeth realized the opposite was true. He failed her.  
  
He swore to himself that this would be the last time he failed her. Ardeth held Celia's eyes with his own, trying desperately to communicate to this woman just how much he loved her. There would be times when he could not be there for her. . .times when duty would call him away. But Celia demonstrated to the Med-jai that she would fight for what she considered hers, and now Ardeth could demonstrate something else. That he would stand with his wife.  
  
After a moment, Celia's smile widened, and it extended to her eyes. She mouthed, 'I love you.' It was Ardeth's turn to smile, for she *had* understood what was in his heart after all. It would not be easy, marrying this woman. But it would be worth it. That much, Ardeth knew. It would be worth it. . .this woman, and the children they would have together, made it worth it. In his mind's eye, Ardeth saw the children they would have together. Children with curly dark hair and hazel eyes. Or maybe brown eyes. Either was fine. As long as they had Celia's smile.  
  
Yes, all the trouble in the world was worth this woman. Yes, his status as the Med-jai chieftain would complicate things. But this woman would not be easily frightened away. Ardeth only wished that everything in his life would be settled that well. The Elders were already making noise about the children he had with Celia, reminding him that she wasn't as young as Anatol's female contemporaries, and it was best for them to get started right away. Annoying old men!  
  
Although, he had to admit. . .he was looking forward to creating those babies!  
  
. . .  
  
She went too far. And yet, as Celia returned her dagger to its sheath, she couldn't regret her actions. She was nice the last few weeks, and now, her patience was gone. Celia was a reasonable woman, but enough was enough. No. No, she didn't regret her actions. However, she was startled when Ardeth put his arm around her shoulders, and looking into her fiancé's eyes, she realized she didn't go too far, after all. It wasn't just meant to urge her away from the confrontation, but also a protective embrace.  
  
Behind her, Altair started speaking in Arabic, and Miranda asked softly, "Ardeth? Mommy? What's Gramma Altair saying?" Celia looked up at her fiancé, to see a mischievous smile lighting his handsome face. Ohhh, this promised to be good! Miranda continued, "And Mommy, where did you learn to do that? Gramma Altair said that you've been deceiving her, that you fight better than you said you do!"  
  
"Your mother does not like to speak of her fighting skills, Miranda, that is not her way. And your grandmother has informed everyone that she regards your mother as her daughter. That is very important, little one, because now, everyone knows that Mother will protect your mother, as she protects Auntie Acacia and Auntie Aleta," Ardeth replied. There was a soft protest from Sanure, then Altair's voice rang out again.  
  
Ardeth winced, ever so slightly, and added, "Your grandmother just informed Sanure that she should be grateful your mother is such a patient woman. If Sanure did that to your grandmother or aunts, none of them would have demonstrated such restraint." Celia looked at Ardeth in surprise, and he added with a shrug, "She speaks the truth, my love. My mother and sisters have all expressed concern at your patience."  
  
"I thought. . ." Celia began, then shook her head. No, it didn't matter. Well, it did, but it could wait until Miranda was in bed. She asked instead, "Your mother really said that?" Ardeth nodded, his eyes lighting up with laughter. He looked *very* proud of his mother. Celia was starting to understand why Altair was viewed with some caution. Though much more mellow, she could still be volatile at times. The American woman was grateful Altair wasn't angry with her. She wanted to keep it that way.  
  
"She did. Celia, my mother's caution with you is not personal. It is simply a mother being protective of her young. Therefore, she will not accept those slurs which you mentioned earlier. To say such things is to insult her son, and she finds that unacceptable. She is still becoming comfortable with you, love. Just give her more time," Ardeth answered. That seemed to be the cure-all. More time.  
  
She knew she would not be accepted right away. Some of the warriors seemed to accept her well enough, but it was hard to say. The Med-jai were a very stoic people. Until a few minutes earlier, when that woman attacked her, she never thought the Med-jai would actually physically attack her. No, it wasn't all Med-jai, but just the attack of one shocked her. She supposed that was why her own reaction frightened her as well.  
  
Celia closed her eyes, remembering the moment when that woman. . .what was her name? Sanure? Yes, Sanure was her name. She flew at Celia, her fist raised to strike. The young American woman had no idea what the woman said to her, or about her, but she knew she was in imminent danger, and reacted accordingly. As the woman's fist descended, Celia's own hand shot up, her fingers encircling the other's wrist.  
  
In a fluid motion, often practiced by Ardath and Anck, Celia stopped the other woman's forward motion, using her own momentum to spin her around. This forced her attacker to her knees, and Celia pressed her advantage by pulling her arm behind her back, while removing her dagger from its sheath. Celia couldn't remember at which point she released Sanure's arm, to pull her hair back, but she did that.  
  
One hand gripped her hair, keeping her in place, while the other held the knife pressed to her throat. Celia shuddered. It was the first time, since recovering her memories of being Lady Ardath, that she used those skills against anyone other than Khaldun. And it scared her. Not just possessing those skills, but. . .she would have killed that woman. There were times when it felt like she was spinning out of control, when she wasn't sure whom she was any longer.  
  
A sudden warmth alerted her that they were no longer alone in Ardeth's tent. She looked up to find Anck staring at her with love, pride, sorrow, and anger. That was something else which required some adjustment. . .Anck watching over her. She did so with a fervor which sometimes frightened the young American. Celia feared that someone would get hurt. Thus far, the ghost only scared some people, but Celia could sense her growing frustration. It was just a matter of time.  
  
"Auntie Anck!" Miranda cried out happily, shattering Celia's concentration. The little girl gave a little bounce, drawing a wince from Ardeth, and continued, "Auntie Anck, did you see Mommy stand up to that mean lady!" Anck's expression changed to delight, as it always did Miranda, and Celia smiled in spite of herself. Miranda gave another bounce, adding, "Were you looking out for us, Auntie Anck?"  
  
"Did I not tell you so, little Miranda? I will always look out for you and your mama. There will be times, sweet niece, when Ardeth cannot take care of you. And when those times come, I will be there," Anck replied. She paused, then added wryly, "But in the meantime, little one, you must stop bouncing like that. It causes Ardeth discomfort when you do that. His ribs are still healing, because he will not take it easy."  
  
Ardeth mumbled something she couldn't make out. It was in Arabic, because Celia could not understand him. Her memories of ancient Egyptian remained, and Anck looked at her questioningly. Celia shrugged, replying in that language, "I have no idea, my friend. I understand English, French, and ancient Egyptian, not Arabic. His sisters try to teach me, but I am a little slow." Anck glared at her and Celia just laughed.  
  
It made her feel better, she discovered, and made Ardeth smile as well. She told him, "Anck's only trying to protect you, love. Miranda, Auntie Anck is right. . .you must not bounce like that. It will hurt Ardeth." Miranda's expression was somewhere between a pout and a worried frown. She loved bouncing, but she didn't want to hurt Ardeth. Celia heard Anck laugh softly at her side, also seeing Miranda's quandary.  
  
Celia heard, of course, about the deeds committed by her protector. She knew about the murder of Seti, about Evy's brief time in the Afterlife. She knew about Ahm Shere. But it was hard for her to reconcile all of this with the woman who loved and watched over her. Whatever Anck did. . .it was in the past. And Celia was totally convinced that no matter what happened, the ghost would be there for her and her family.  
  
She had only to look at Anck's attitude toward Ardeth. Once, Anck candidly admitted that she hated Ardeth. Not because of what he did, but because of what he was. He was Med-jai, and Anck spent three thousand years hating the Med-jai, even before she learned about the casting of the hom-dai. She hated them because they protected Seti, because in their own way, they were her jailers.  
  
And yet. . .Anck grew to love Ardeth. Celia could hear it in her voice when she gently chastised Miranda for bouncing in his arms. She could see it when Anck smiled at him, though she did wonder whom Anck saw. Was it Ardeth Bey, the current chieftain of the Med-jai people? Or was it Ardeth Bey, the beloved nephew of Anck's heart? If that first Ardeth did, indeed, resemble his father so closely, it was a fair question.  
  
There were no doubts when Anck looked at Miranda. Even if Celia had her doubts about Anck's love for Ardeth, or for herself, even if she wondered if Anck saw the present day incarnations. . .there was no such question where Miranda was concerned. Miranda was herself; to the best of Celia's knowledge, her little girl was no one's reincarnation. There was a chance, of course, that when Anck looked at Miranda, she saw what little Miriam might have been.  
  
But Miriam never had the chance to live. Anck never had the chance to know, or love, her niece. Celia smiled to herself. There was a curious justice, when she thought about it. In the past, Anck was denied the chance to love her niece and nephew, for varying reasons. And as a ghost, she had that chance. Anck once explained to her that she was no longer condemned to the Underworld. . .but she was not ready to be reborn.  
  
Celia looked back at her daughter and Anck. She thought sometimes that it was a pity, that Anck never had children of her own. Until Ardath came into her life, until she witnessed her best friend's transition to a mother, Anck never had much interest in children. But people changed. Celia was proof of that, as was Anck. But then, Anck was also proof that people could change, even after they died.  
  
Celia saw that Miranda finally settled on a worried frown, and wrapped her arms around Ardeth's neck. She kissed his cheek, and Celia felt her smile broaden. At the same time, her heart lightened, and she felt as if she could deal with anything which came down the path for them. There was still the matter of the Med-jai who resented her. . .but for now, she had Ardeth and she had Miranda. Altair made it clear that she stood with her. And she had Anck, her celestial protector. What more could she ask?  
  
. . .  
  
So. The little tigress finally made her appearance. Altair was quite pleased with her daughter-in-law. Over the last few weeks, she watched as Celia's patience frayed. In her opinion, Ardeth shouldn't have talked Celia out of putting Sanure in her place. She knew why he did it. He was trying to protect his wife and child, and his people at the same time.  
  
Even so, she wished her son hadn't stopped his intended. More than that, she wished she knew what to do to help the shy yet fierce young woman. When she and Suleiman were married, there weren't the pressures that Ardeth faced. The Egypt of the late 1800's was a tense place, as the world shifted and changed around them. The Med-jai were finding their job more difficult, with the technological advances.  
  
On top of that, as Suleiman and Altair prepared to wed, there were security issues for the Med-jai throughout Egypt, not just at Hamunaptra. In 1881, Auguste Mariette, the head of the Antiquities Service, died. His replacement was Sir Gaston Maspero, and the Med-jai had to connect with the newcomer, coming to a new arrangement. As ever, there were cultural difficulties. But this wasn't the worst problem. . .Maspero might have had difficulties with the Med-jai, as he came from a totally different culture, but he recognized these strange men were his allies against treasure seekers.  
  
Most of the problems the Med-jai had was with the director's need for more men. He had few employees, and could only pay them so much. The Antiquities Service was a government agency, and the budget only allocated so much. It was in the best interests of the Med-jai, of course, to help Maspero where they could. And they did. However, the first priority of the Med-jai was keeping Imhotep and other evils under the sands of Egypt. Which was NOT something Maspero understood.  
  
So there were many things to concern the Med-jai, when Suleiman and Altair were married. Altair almost wished for something similar, so her son and his fiancee could complete their courtship without further difficulties. However, that was not to be. The Med-jai needed a rest, after two risings by Imhotep, and Ahm Shere. Her son needed a rest, and his week-long vacation in Cairo six months earlier didn't count. However, there was nothing she could do about that, and instead, Altair chose to help Celia in any way she could. Today marked another milestone, the day her daughter-in-law finally stood up to those who attacked her and her child.  
  
Altair was proud of Celia. Not just pleased with her, but she was proud of her, too. Especially when Sanure physically attacked her, and Celia dealt with her accordingly. She knew part of it was the remaining memories of Lady Ardath, but there was also the very real fury felt by a young mother whose child was targeted because she was different. And for that reason alone. Not because she treated those children badly, but because she was different.  
  
Altair accumulated a great deal of wisdom through the years, and she knew that while her daughter-in-law won no friends today, she did win some respect. She demonstrated that she was willing to stand up for herself and for her child. More than that, she called people on their allegations that she bewitched Ardeth. For that alone, Altair was fiercely proud of her. They were in such a hurry to blame Celia for the changes in Ardeth, or what they thought were changes in their chieftain, that they had no trouble turning him into a weak, incompetent fool.  
  
However, those who knew Ardeth, who watched him grow up, knew the truth. Celia did not change him. She would make no attempt to change him, either. She had no desire to change him. In fact, Altair's instinct was that she would only intervene where O'Connell was concerned. Once before, she stood up to him. Outside Hamunaptra, when Khaldun took over his body. Anatol told her about it.  
  
She would not intervene in matters dealing with Hamunaptra. Celia was no child who thought that the world revolved around her. For that, Altair was grateful. Her son chose a woman close to his own age. Her concerns about Celia had nothing to do with her age, her fertility, her intelligence or her love for Ardeth. Rather, they had to do with Altair's desire to protect her children. Once, she was not vigilant with the hearts of her children, and her daughter paid the price.  
  
That would not happen a second time. She knew that Suleiman accepted Celia without question. But it would take time for Altair to do the same. She gave the girl a chance, and was rewarded with Celia's almost painful eagerness to please. It truly would have been painful, if Celia was ten years younger. And yet, Altair couldn't fault the girl for trying so hard. She knew what she was up against, and she wanted people to know that she was worthy of their chieftain.  
  
But of course, she made the greatest strides in proving this when she stopped trying and simply reacted. What was Sanure thinking? Foolish girl! If Celia didn't do something to stop her, then Altair would have. Fortunately, that wasn't necessary. Fortune, though, had nothing to do with it, and Altair knew that. Well, one hurdle was overcome. She just wished that her daughters witnessed the confrontation, as it would have gone far to alleviate Acacia's worries about her brother's bride. This was a step in the right direction. There would be more hurdles. There would always be more hurdles.  
  
And there was time for Celia to pass those hurdles. She had a lifetime to prove herself worthy of her husband. A good thing it was. It would take time, too, before Celia could accept that there was more to being a good wife than simply not undermining Ardeth. She worked *very* hard at that, though Altair knew Celia was struggling to keep her objections to anything she saw between herself and her husband-to-be. In addition, the newcomer was careful with the warriors, struggling to keep a balance between indifference and fawning. It was a wonder, given the work she put in, just trying to keep balanced, that Celia wasn't exhausted. Altair stopped, thought, then smiled.  
  
Yes. That would work as an explanation for what just happened, only a few minutes earlier. Today was the first time in weeks that the Med-jai saw the real Celia Ferguson. The woman who defeated Khaldun twice, though admittedly one such time was with the aid of Lady Ardath, finally made her presence known. Altair realized, too, during the last few weeks that Celia's shyness was ingrained in her. From what she learned from Evy O'Connell, Altair's daughter-in-law was always shy in the beginning.  
  
But when she was tired, her defenses went down. It made sense. Celia grew exhausted by her attempts to prove herself to the Med-jai. Anyone would, after all. And when she was tired, she no longer had the energy to be something she wasn't. There were times, too, when more energy went into treating people with courtesy, than showing them the same sort of contempt which they were currently displaying. Altair saw this reality many time over the years. She. . .  
  
"Where is she? Where's my sister?"  
  
The strident words surprised Altair, and she looked around. To her surprise, young Jason Ferguson was steaming toward her, his face a mask of fear. The boy stopped just short of colliding with her, and even after he stopped, Altair thought for a moment he might still topple over. But he maintained his footing, and repeated, "I just heard that something happened, a confrontation. Where's Celia, is she okay?"  
  
He looked so genuinely concerned, so truly frightened for his sister, that Altair had a hard time connecting this frightened young man with the man who callously left his sister and small niece behind when they first arrived in Egypt. She wondered how much of it was because of what that monster Khaldun did to him, and how much of it was. . . other things. Altair hadn't lived as long as she had without learning that there was rarely just one reason for an event.  
  
However, she said nothing of this to the frightened young man. Right now, she really didn't think he was interested in hearing her thoughts about anything but his sister. Jason was struggling to catch his breath, his hazel eyes wide with fear. After a moment, Altair said quietly, "Your sister is well, young Ferguson. A Med-jai woman did, indeed, attack her. . .or rather, attempt to attack her. . .but your sister disarmed her and warned her, and others, what would happen the next time she or Miranda were attacked."  
  
Jason Ferguson blinked, then asked warily, "She's really okay? The woman didn't hurt her at all?" Altair just smiled at him gently, inclining her head in acknowledgment, and he relaxed. Such protectiveness of his sister! Altair never expected this! Jason's smile grew wider as he sighed, "Oh, thank God. I knew things were becoming ugly, but I never expected someone to actually try to hurt her. I haven't been a real good brother, but I do love my sister, you know."  
  
This was said almost defensively, and Altair bit back a smile. She replied serenely, "There are times, young Jason, when you do things which will lead to harm for your sister. Most of the time, you do not intend to cause harm, but such things happen any way. This is the way of things. My oldest son was such a person. He did not always think, but he loved his younger brothers and sisters no less for his foolishness." She paused, then asked with an impish smile, "Would you like to hear about what happened, between your sister and that woman?"  
  
"Does it involve my sister having an Ardath moment, and teaching that woman to never underestimate her again, or mess with Miranda?" the boy asked hopefully, and Altair nodded. Her smile grew all the more impish when Jason replied, his hazel eyes sparkling, "Then tell me all about it! I watched her kick Khaldun's ass. . .'scuse my language, ma'am. . .and I can still hardly believe that it was my sister who did it!"  
  
Altair bit back her laughter. She actually understood how the young man felt. Except in her case, it wasn't her sister who surprised her. Rather, it was her youngest daughter. Quiet, easygoing, gentle Aleta who stoutly defended her future sister-in-law to anyone who dared insult Celia in her presence. It startled a number of people, some of whom never saw Aleta angry about anything. This, in part, contributed to certain jealous maidens whispering that Celia was actually a sorceress who cast a spell upon Ardeth. She must be a sorceress. Aleta was angry about something, and that was not at all like her. If only they knew Altair's youngest daughter as well as she did. But that could wait for another day. Right now. . .there were stories to be told.  
  
"Then I will make you this deal, Jason Ferguson. I will tell you of your sister's confrontation with Sanure a few moments ago, and then you will tell me about the confrontation with Khaldun inside Hamunaptra. Do we have a deal?" Altair asked, holding out her hand to the boy. Jason's eyes lit up and he nodded, pumping her hand vigorously. Altair linked her arm within his, then began to tell the boy about the confrontation between his sister and the Med-jai woman, only moments earlier.  
  
. . .  
  
Well now, this was most assuredly an unexpected turn of events! Then again, ever since returning to the Med-jai camp with Celia three weeks earlier, there was one unexpected event after another. Everything Anck-su- namun ever believed about the Med-jai was thrown into a disarray during the last few weeks, and she had a sneaking suspicion that her ancient enemies were not yet finished surprising her.  
  
First, there was Anatol Bey's cautious acceptance of her appearance in Hamanaptra, and her siding with them. It angered her, at first, his wariness. But she quickly remembered that the boy had no reason to trust her. Then, there was Anatol's discovery that she removed the illusion of Jason Ferguson, so her sister could fight Khaldun.  
  
During Anck's lifetime, the Med-jai learned spells and incantations to carry out their task of protecting the pharaoh and his family. Those spells and incantations were passed down through the generations. It seemed likely that as the descendents of the first Med-jai chieftain, the Bey family would have that knowledge as well. But never did it even occur to Anck that the descendents of Rameses and Ardath would have magickal abilities themselves.  
  
And yet, Anatol sensed Anck shattering the illusion. Further, while she watched the Med-jai of today, she discovered something else. As the chieftain of the twelve Med-jai tribes, Ardeth Bey was a combination of king, general, and visionary. Ardath would have called her namesake and descendent a prophet, but Anck wasn't certain if that was the proper term. While not a seer, he was very wise, though very young, and was as much scholar as he was a warrior. In some ways, Ardeth was the most difficult to define, out of all the Med-jai.  
  
She learned other things. Through Celia, she learned that the twelve tribes existed from the beginning. . .a fact which confused both Celia and Anck, both of whom thought each tribe was added on as the centuries passed. However, during a conversation with Celia about the first few years of the Med-jai exile, Ardeth explained that Rameses ordered the separation of the twelve ringleaders who invoked the hom-dai. Each was to take their family to a position near Hamunaptra, where they would stand guard.  
  
Rameses had two reasons for doing this. Though he was spinning out of control, he knew, or sensed, that Khaldun infected the Med-jai with his own madness. Having those twelve together was a very bad idea. The Med- jai would expand outward, starting at the Hamunaptra camp. His other reason was a memorial to Ardath and the Hebrew slaves who raised her, the twelve tribes of Abraham. This, Anck knew from Ardeth, who recovered that memory of Rameses.  
  
So, yes, Anck learned much about the Med-jai. There were some she learned to respect. . .a few she was coming to like. Now, if she could just do something about those pesky maidens and matrons. . . But she knew there was only so much she was allowed to do, unless Celia or Miranda was directly threatened. *I forgot,* she thought with a grimace, *how difficult it is to love someone, and be totally helpless where they were concerned.* It wasn't a feeling she liked. She never liked it when she was alive, and she certainly didn't like it now.  
  
Take Sanure, for example. Of course, Celia handled her very well. Anck was proud of her friend, for the way she handled that bitch. But Anck still wish she could have done something to help Celia. It didn't matter what. Anything. And strangely enough, she didn't hold it against Ardeth, that he did nothing to help Celia. She understood his reasoning. There would be times when Ardeth wasn't around, and it was absolutely necessary that Celia could stand up for herself and her daughter when Ardeth wasn't in the encampment.  
  
Anck understood that. She didn't like it, but she understood it and she accepted it. Just as she accepted, albeit unwillingly, that she couldn't do anything more after she dumped the tent on that little brat. She made her point, now she had to back off, or Celia would end up suffering for it. That sounded familiar to Anck, who remembered such things occurring back when Ardeth was Rameses, and Celia was Ardath.  
  
She remembered now that even as their men considered her best friend a heroine, there were some Med-jai wives who resented her for her popularity. They never took direct action against her, of course. They dared not, for such a thing was tantamount to treason. Lady Ardath was the beloved concubine of the prince. To attack her was unthinkable. But those jealous women found other ways to make Anck's best friend pay. Some things never changed. Fortunately, the wife of Anck's Med-jai protector, Paziyah, was never one of those women.  
  
Paziyah was jealous of Ardath, Anck remembered, though in a different way. It was something which Anck's forever friend never understood. After all, Shakir Bey adored his wife. She was beautiful. . .everyone at court said so. Even some of the princes remarked how it was a pity that a commoner was born with such beauty. When that remark was repeated by one of the more catty ladies of the court, Ardath found it necessary to hold Anck back.  
  
This action reminded the carrier of these tales that both the concubines were of common birth. And while no one was particularly concerned about the quiet Ardath, they did worry about the far more volatile Anck-su-namun. Several concubines learned the hard way not to anger the native Egyptian. . .and a few learned that angering Lady Ardath was a very, very *bad* idea. A very few, but some, nonetheless.  
  
Although, to be totally truthful, Anck was the one who was of common birth. From what little Ardath remembered of her early life, it seemed likely that her birth parents was well-born within their own societies. But the memory of a four year old girl is often faulty, and Ardath never fully trusted what she remembered. It never mattered to her, of course. She was raised as a servant, just as Anck was, just as many concubines were. But where Anck yearned to be free, Ardath yearned only to be loved.  
  
And it was in love that she found her freedom. Anck found it strange, for love cast irons over her. She found it impossible to love Seti, especially after he had her coated with that paint. And her love of Imhotep led her to her ruin. To his ruin, as well. He still seemed incapable of forgiving her for her. . .or Meela's. . .betrayal, and Anck could not blame him. For even as both Mathayus and Ma'at assured her that it was Meela who left Imhotep, Anck still doubted herself. It was a new emotion, and one which she didn't like. Anck didn't remember feeling self- doubt in any of her lives. For the first time, too, it occurred to her that could be a cause for her ruin in each life. Her pride, her determination to raise Imhotep, and her lack of self-doubt.  
  
*You learn quickly, my daughter. I am most pleased with your progress,* Ma'at said softly. Anck dipped her head, shyly proud of the words spoken by the goddess of justice. For the first time in her life. . .or afterlife, really. . .someone valued her for something other than her beauty or what she could do for them. Someone other than Ardath (or her reincarnation) and Imhotep. She found that she liked this greatly.  
  
Ma'at continued after a moment, *Yes, child. . .it is pleasing to be valued for something other than your beauty. In your afterlife, you are finally finding value in yourself. This will help you in your next life. In the meantime, there is more work to be done. I know you struggle with your desire to protect Celia from any and all who would do her harm. And that pleases me as well, for that means you are learning self-control. That is very important, Anck-su-namun. That self-control may one day mean the difference between life and death for the Bey family.*  
  
Anck's head snapped up and she looked in the direction of her goddess. What did that mean? Her self-control might one day mean the difference between life and death for Ardeth's family? More to the point, which family members did the goddess mean? Did she mean Celia and Miranda, or his brothers and sisters? Or something else entirely which had yet to reveal herself? Anck always had something of a temper. . .but she only lost control where Ardath and Imhotep were concerned. This warning frightened her, badly.  
  
Ma'at continued, *We will continue to work on Seti. You hurt him deeply, dear child. If you had but reached out to him, you might have come to love him. He was lonely, Anck-su-namun. Terribly lonely. Just as lonely as you were. Just as lonely as Imhotep. And, there is one other thing you must know. Seti found it difficult sometimes to demonstrate his affection and regard. But he did love your Ardath, just as he loved Nefertiri and Rameses.*  
  
*He bears the name of the god Seth,* Anck murmured numbly. Seth, in Anck's time, was the personification of evil. He murdered his brother Osiris and attempted to take the rightful throne of his nephew Horus. Her father reviled Seth, because the story of Seth and Osiris struck too close to home for him. Some of that was embedded in Anck's soul. . .driving her to consider Seti evil before he even touched her. But Seti screamed for Imhotep when he realized that Ardath was miscarrying. Anck saw the tears in his eyes as he cradled her friend in his arms, saw his tears once more when she died in the arms of Rameses after being poisoned.  
  
Numbly, she realized anew that she never gave Seti a chance. She was too filled with hatred and resentment. Ma'at said softly, *As I said, you learn quickly. But you must not be too harsh on yourself, my dear. You were but a child when you arrived at the palace, only ten years old, and you already knew too much. You were fifteen when you caught the eye of Pharoah. It has always impressed me that your love for Ardath was stronger than any resentment for her good fortune.*  
  
Anck almost argued the point, until she remember she was speaking with a goddess. Yes, she was jealous of Ardath when Rameses fell in love with her. Anck wanted that love so desperately. She was desired, but not loved, or so she thought. But now, everything she ever believed was being turned upside down. Anck no longer knew what to believe, and the only things which were stable were her deep love for Celia, and her growing protectiveness for Ardeth.  
  
. . .  
  
Jason Ferguson could hardly believe what Altair Bey told him. Then again, remembering the confrontation in Hamunaptra, maybe he shouldn't doubt her. Jason knew that the confrontation was fueled in part by the three-thousand-year-old rage which Lady Ardath bore toward Khaldun, but he also knew that Celia was in there as well. She was just as fierce as the concubine, telling Khaldun that he was paying for what he did to Ardeth Bey, to Jason, and to Celia herself.  
  
His disbelief gave way to anger, as he wondered where Ardeth Bey was. His eyes must have given him away, for Altair said quietly, "My son knew that interfering when he did would have been disastrous. You will hear this many times during the next few days, as people discuss this. But it is true. There will be times when your sister will be challenged, and my son will not be here to protect her." Altair paused, glared at him, and added, "And you have no reason to judge my son." Ow. That hurt. It was also true, as Jason knew all too well. He hated when that happened.  
  
As the days passed, it seemed more likely that Jason was destined to be surrounded by women who were stronger and smarter than he was. Even his four year old niece fell into that category. Which reminded him. While he saw his sister take on Khaldun, Jason also saw his niece implore Imhotep to save Ardeth's life. That hadn't surprised the young American, because he knew just how much Ardeth meant to the little girl. What surprised him, in part because he shared Khaldun's memories, was how uncomfortable Imhotep was at the sight of Miranda's tears.  
  
Like her mother, Miranda never used her tears as a weapon. Like Celia. . .and unlike their mother Madeleine, who often used her tears to get what she wanted from her husband. When you came right down to it, that made those tears the most powerful tool possessed by his sister and his niece. Because they did not cry to manipulate, when they did cry. . . Well, it had the effect of making the person who hurt them feel that much worse. At least it did, if the person in question had a conscience. Which automatically removed Khaldun from the running.  
  
But what fascinated Jason was the timing. This was *before* Celia broke the hom-dai with her blood and Ardeth's. Before the curse of the Creature was nullified, and before Imhotep's humanity began to return. At least, that was what Jason thought at the time. But what if that weren't the case? What if Imhotep's return to humanity came even before he returned to this world?  
  
Seeing that she lost Jason's attention, Altair shooed him away. She had work to do. Jason chewed his lower lip thoughtfully as he headed away from her tent. He wasn't ready to talk to Celia yet, though he was uncomfortably aware that he was running out of time. His sister would marry in just two days, and he would leave soon after.  
  
But he was not ready to answer the questions which he knew Celia had, and nor was he ready to hear the answers to the questions which he himself sought. At least, not from his sister, but there was one other. Imhotep himself. Jason headed to the tent used by Imhotep during the last few weeks. It was uncomfortably close to Ardeth's, to where his sister disappeared only moments earlier, according to Altair.  
  
Jason could understand the reasoning. The Med-jai had no reason to trust Imhotep, given his recent attempt to take over the world and wipe out humanity. And, Ardeth was protecting their 'guest,' by putting his tent so close to the chieftain's own. If Imhotep was attacked, Ardeth would be the first to hear. While Imhotep remained with the Med-jai, the chieftain would allow no harm to come to the former mummy.  
  
Especially since Ardeth was the reincarnation of Imhotep's best friend. Jason saw Ardeth watching Imhotep with a combination of suspicion and confusion. Imhotep seemed just as confused, and Jason couldn't blame him. The two behaved with a wary civility. Ardeth knew Imhotep bought him valuable time in Hamunaptra, and he was too honorable to ignore that, no matter how many years he feared and hated the high priest.  
  
Jason knocked on the former mummy's tent, and Imhotep opened the flap. Well, of course he did. . .who else would have done so? It wasn't as if Imhotep had many visitors. He looked at Jason, who stammered, "I came to ask you some questions, if you have time." Imhotep gave him a once- over, making Jason very nervous, then jerked his chin into the tent. Jason didn't spend any time questioning the man. . .Imhotep was no longer the Creature, but he was still bigger, stronger, and far more powerful than Jason.  
  
"What do you wish to know?" Imhotep demanded. Jason noted that his English improved once more, and wondered if the previous owner of Imhotep's current body knew English as well. Imhotep gestured impatiently, repeating, "What do you want, boy? I have not all day!" Impatient and imperious. Jason, who always became rude when he was nervous for reasons he didn't fully understand, returned fire.  
  
"Oh, do you have an important engagement elsewhere, Imhotep? Please. You know that I'm one of the few people who will even talk to you. And no wonder. How many people have you killed in your little rampages? Or have you lost count? Was Seti even the first person you killed, were there others? You wonder why the Med-jai loathe you, but all you have to do is think back three thousand years, when you killed a man because he had the woman you wanted!" he jeered.  
  
He found himself. . .floating. In midair. Just with a wave of Imhotep's hand. Jason was close to soiling himself, and Imhotep hissed, "You know NOTHING of my life, boy! Seti realized that another man touched my Anck-su-namun, and for that, he could have killed her. I was protecting the woman I loved, you little worm! As if you have any room to talk? How many did you kill, while under the sway of Khaldun, boy?"  
  
It hurt, as it was meant to, and Imhotep continued brutally, "I had as much choice in the lives I took during my first rising, as you did as Khaldun's vessel. None. The Med-jai of thirty centuries ago cut out my tongue, boy! I had no way to communicate! I was just awakened after three thousand years of a living death! Can you imagine that, boy? My tongue was cut out, I was buried alive with flesh-eating scarabs."  
  
Imhotep's voice dropped as he went on, "Do you see the faces of the Med-jai you killed while under Khaldun's thumb? I see the face of every person I killed, each time I awakened. Some of whom were barely more than boys. When I was in the underworld, after Anck-su-namun betrayed me, my penance was to experience the agony which I caused. To Ardeth Bey, to his family, to the O'Connell family. . .everyone I ever hurt."  
  
Imhotep released him, and Jason fell to the ground with a thud. He sat up, groaning, and replied, "That was what I wanted to talk to you about." Although that wasn't quite how he intended to ask. Imhotep just looked at him, and Jason continued, "While I was under Khaldun's control, I noticed your reaction when Miranda begged. You refused, but you looked very uncomfortable. Which means you have a conscience. And that happened while you were in the Underworld."  
  
"That is so," Imhotep sighed. He slipped to his knees beside the young American and continued, "It became more pronounced, after the little queen told me to heal the Med-jai. She took any excuse I might have when she threatened me with something worse than the hom-dai." So it was a matter of pride? That was what it sounded like to Jason, and Imhotep continued, "I learned more, while I was healing Ardeth Bey."  
  
He stopped, looking sad. Jason didn't push him, and after a moment, Imhotep continued, "I always respected him. Even as I hated him for standing in my way, I respected him as a worthy adversary. He was honest and loyal. I wondered what I would need to do, to win the loyalty of such a man, when my own underlings were so pathetic. Hafez, who left his men, those who served him, to save his own skin. . .and Lock-nah."  
  
There was a very real contempt in the former mummy's voice, but Jason didn't ask about that. He heard about Lock-nah and Hafez from various sources. Instead, the young American asked, "Why do you call my sister that?" Imhotep looked back at him, and Jason explained, "You call my sister, 'the little queen.' Why is that?" This time, Imhotep allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. A real smile, small as it was.  
  
"For two reasons. First, even in Hamunaptra, I could see Ardeth Bey's love for her, and her love for him. I learned during my risings that the Med-jai now had a chieftain, thus making the wife of Ardeth Bey a queen to the Med-jai. Secondly, she is the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, who would have been queen but for a simple twist of fate. Do you not think your sister deserves to be called so?" he asked.  
  
Jason sputtered and Imhotep laughed outright. There was nothing even remotely menacing about the sound, and when the former mummy calmed himself, he continued, "You spoke the truth a moment ago. You are among the few who will speak to me. I apologize for overreacting as I did." It took Jason's stunned mind a moment to understand what Imhotep was saying, and then the man continued, "Stay a while. I must practice my English, if I wish to remain in this world." Jason hesitated, then nodded. It wasn't like anyone was exactly in line to talk to him, either. 


	5. Smooth move, Rick!

Sailor Elf: Hehehehe. . .you shouldn't mess with Celia, indeed! And Sanure won't be the last person to learn that particular lesson!  
  
Cindy: I'm glad you enjoyed the sections with Ardeth's father. . .Suleiman is becoming a really fun character for me to write. He also plays a part in the third story, 'What Might Have Been.'  
  
Deana: Well, I figured I'd better post some when I did, because heaven only knows when I'll get the computer next. And this time, I'm posting three chapters together.  
  
Part Four  
  
Just when he thought nothing could surprise him anymore. . .something like this happened. And everything he thought he knew about this land, about these people, about this tribe, even about his friend got blown sky- high. Personally, Rick O'Connell thought some of these people were getting off lightly. . .because if his wife was attacked the way Celia just was, he would have killed whoever did it. Then again, he knew Ardeth couldn't do that. He didn't have the freedoms to protect his wife that Rick did.  
  
"Rick, what happened?" Evy asked anxiously as Rick looked around the Med-jai camp. The husband of the woman who attacked Celia. . .did Ardeth call her Sanure? He thought so. Sanure's husband took her back to their tent, husband and wife still trembling. Rick looked at his wife, who remained with Acacia and Aleta during the whole incident. She looked worried, but he wasn't sure whom she was worried about.  
  
"Long version or short version?" he asked, scrubbing his hand over his face. Evy glared at him for all she was worth, and Rick acquiesed, saying, "Right, any version. Okay. One of the Med-jai women attacked Celia a few minutes ago, after she and Ardeth came back from their ride. The mother whose brats were tormenting Miranda. Anyhow, she attacked Celia, and just like that, she's on her knees in front of Celia, with that dagger Anck-su-namun gave Ardath in Celia's hand, at her throat."  
  
Evy's eyes widened and she whispered, "What?????" Rick nodded, and Evy murmured, "That must have been what Aleta saw when she looked out the tent flap, just before Altair left with Miranda. She was joking when she heard Ardeth and Celia's voices, after they came back, and then. . . Well, is Celia all right? That awful woman didn't hurt her, did she?" Rick smiled at the note of anxiety in his wife's voice. It sounded like she was becoming as protective of Celia as she was of Ardeth.  
  
"She's just fine. I saw the whole thing. That woman never even had a chance to strike her. And worse, she did it while Ardeth's back was turned. . .probably trying to trick him into thinking that she was the one who was attacked. She's not very bright, not with the insults she was screaming at Celia," Rick replied. That was actually what got his attention. He wanted to talk to Ardeth, and was waiting for his friend's return. Sanure's screams told him that it was time.  
  
Evy's eyes narrowed in a way Rick recognized. He grabbed his wife's shoulders, saying, "Ohhhh, no. No, you don't. Celia handled her just fine, and then Altair put her in her place. Besides, you're five months pregnant, and I'm not taking any chances with your life, or the baby's!" Evy opened her mouth to speak and Rick added, "And don't even say it. Don't say, no harm ever came from talking to someone."  
  
Evy smiled very sweetly, and she replied, "Actually, that won't be necessary. I understood most of what Altair told that awful woman. . .and I understood what Acacia said after the confrontation. From what I heard, it seems likely that she'll be having a word or two with her." Her dark eyes sparkled with evil mischief. The first time Rick saw that look in his wife's eyes, she was telling him about how mummies were made.  
  
Rick shook his head, muttering, "You gotta watch out for those Bey women. They scare me on a regular basis, I can't imagine what it would have been like to grow up with them!" Evy merely laughed, linking her arm with his, and Rick continued, "Well, Ardeth's with Celia. I think she's kinda rattled. . .by the attack and the way she reacted. Ssince I really need to talk to Ardeth when he's alone, what do you say we go check on our son, before he and Darius devise a way to bring the entire village down?"  
  
Evy's eyes narrowed again, and she asked slowly, "And what, exactly, do you want to talk about with my brother, while he's alone?" Rick offered her a weak smile, having no intention of admitting that he planned to fill in the blanks. Ardeth's wedding night would be his first time, and Rick didn't know what Suleiman Bey told his son. If anything, since Ardeth was only thirteen when his father died, and Rick didn't even want to think about having that conversation with Alex when *he* was that age!  
  
However, Evy knew him better, and said in a warning tone, "Rick. Leave him alone about that. It only embarasses him when you bring it up and you keep forgetting how protective Celia is of him." Rick winced. Uh yeah, she raised a good point. Just in the last few weeks, Rick O'Connell discovered just how protective his wife's best friend was of her fiancé. Evy continued in a low voice, "Celia has more experience than Ardeth does in this matter. I think you should allow her to do what has to be done."  
  
"But Evy. . ." Rick almost whined. He felt for a moment as if he was Alex's age, and trying to get permission to do something he wanted to do. Evy leveled one of her glares at him, and Rick continued, "I'm not trying to embarrass him, I'm trying to help him. He would be more embarrassed if Celia was the one who did all the work. I mean, you know. . ." Now Rick found himself sputtering with embarrassment, due to the pictures currently dancing through his mind, of his best friend engaged in amorous activities with Celia. Pictures he *really* didn't need to be seeing in any way, shape or form. Okay, it was settled. When he got his hands on Ardeth, he would kill him for this!  
  
"Did it ever occur to you, my love, that maybe Ardeth would enjoy relinquishing control for once? Rick, think! The poor man has so much responsibility as the Med-jai chieftain. Do you really think he would mind Celia taking over?" Evy asked. Rick frowned. Come to think of it, he never really looked at it from that angle. But he couldn't deny that his wife's words had validity. It was just that. . .  
  
"It's just not natural, especially. . .especially in a case like this," Rick said, still sounding terribly close to whining. He really wanted to talk to Ardeth, make sure his friend wasn't overly nervous about the wedding night. Well, all right. . .maybe he did want to tease him, just a little. Especially since Rick never thought he would see Ardeth Bey fall in love with anyone. Come to think of it, until recently, he never really thought of Ardeth even being human, like everyone else. Because he wasn't like everyone else, he was a Med-jai, and not just any Med-jai, but the Med-jai chieftain at that.  
  
"Rick, no. And can we please stop discussing my brother's. . .could we please stop discussing this? It's terribly disturbing!" Evy exclaimed. Rick put his arm around his wife, drawing her close against his body. Yeah, she was right about that. Just the thought of Ardeth and Celia's wedding night was enough to disturb *him.* Rick smiled over Evy's head as something else occurred to him. Evy said she didn't want him talking to Ardeth about this. But she never said anything about talking to *Celia* about it!  
  
. . .  
  
Acacia Bey never really thought about what she would say to Sanure, once she confronted the other woman. In truth, she wasn't thinking at all when she plunged headlong out of her mother's tent. She was too angry to think. She understood, even if Celia did not, what Sanure called her. For weeks, she was patient with the other women of this tribe at the insistence of her sister-in-law and the request of her brother.  
  
She maintained her own patience, even as she found herself betraying her soon-to-be sister-in-law in small ways. The very idea that her children should play with those brats, when they didn't want to! But she wanted to preserve the peace of the tribe. How could she have been so stupid? Or blind? Sanure and her little group of friends were nothing more than bullies, and it was time someone put them in their place.  
  
That was something Acacia should have done a long time ago, instead of forcing her brother's intended into what happened earlier. This was just as much Acacia's fault as it was Sanure's. She should have put a stop to this weeks earlier, when Sanure's children went after Miranda the first time. Celia was still finding her place in the tribe. Yes, Acacia told Ardeth that the Med-jai were having a hard time reconciling this quiet woman with the fiery avenging angel who defeated Khaldun inside the City of the Dead.  
  
But that was not how Acacia wanted her sister to quiet those doubts! Even so, Acacia couldn't argue with the way Celia handled it. She was very proud of her brother, for choosing a woman willing to fight for him, and she was very proud of Celia for how she reacted to Sanure's threats, insults, and eventual attack. Acacia knew that part of it was Ardath's memories, but that was beside the point.  
  
Knowledge was fine, but it did one no good if that person didn't know how to use it. And Celia knew exactly what to do with her memories. It was no different than. . .well, than Evelyn O'Connell using what she learned to defeat Imhotep. Ignoring for a moment, of course, that she raised the Creature in the first place. She raised him, but not Anck-su- namun, and Acacia knew that Evelyn *had* faced that one.  
  
She didn't like Anck-su-namun, despite the ghost's aid in the defeat of Khaldun, and despite her continuing support and protectiveness for Celia. Too many times, Anck-su-namun or her reincarnation caused trouble for Acacia's family, and the widow was in no hurry to give her trust. On the other hand, she had to admit that during the last few weeks, Anck was far more honest and honorable than some of Acacia's own people.  
  
And that rankled with the Med-jai woman. It rankled deeply. Perhaps she shouldn't have been so surprised when Anck appeared in front of Acacia. On this particular day, she was attired in her shift, rather than the gold paint decreed by Seti. Acacia was relieved. She always hated Seti from the stories told by the old ones, and harbored a secret sympathy for Anck- su-namun when she heard about the gold paint.  
  
Though Acacia said nothing, Anck said in ancient Egyptian, "Your brother is with Celia and my niece. I have no wish to watch them. I thought I would join you, for I sense you intend to. . .oh, how is it that Nefertiri puts it? You intend to leave that woman in a world of hurt?" Anck tripped over the unfamiliar phrase, and Acacia found herself smiling in spite of herself. She didn't want to like Anck. . .didn't want to like this strangely appealing woman. But better Anck than Sanure.  
  
"Well, I may not hurt her, but I do intend to make sure she never harms someone I care for again. Nor will I allow anyone call my brother incompetent or foolish. Ardeth has done too much for our people to be treated with such disrespect by such unworthy people," Acacia replied. Anck grinned unexpectedly, and the two walked side by side. Acacia continued, "You understood what she said, did you not? Maybe not the words, but you recognized the hate. The poison."  
  
"When you spend as much time hating as I have," Anck acknowledged, "you recognize it immediately. I did not recognize the words, no. But it was not necessary. Hatred, just like love, transcends language." She paused, then continued, "You are not certain what to think of me, Acacia Bey. You still have the memories of being a child, hearing of my evil deeds. And I did do terrible things. But you also see other things."  
  
"Tiyu," Acacia replied, "I was taught to hate you, for your deeds. But even as I was taught to hate you, my mother taught us to have compassion for you. It was a lesson I found difficult, until I fell in love." Anck looked at her, and Acacia continued, "My husband died during Imhotep's first rising. He was one of my brother's men. And the last thing I said to him. . .I did not tell him to be careful. I asked him to watch out for my brother. I lost Andreas. I could not bear to lose Ardeth."  
  
The compassion in Anck's eyes almost unraveled what remained of Acacia's composure. She continued, "It never even occurred to me that I might lose my husband. Never, never, never. But I lost Andreas, and Ardeth almost died at the hands of Lock-nah as well. You fear what you know, after all. So yes, Anck-su-namun. After I fell in love, and after I lost my husband, I learned to have compassion for you."  
  
"Mathayus told me," Anck whispered, "that when Khaldun's madness infected the Med-jai, your ancestors, it was not Imhotep alone who was cursed, but the Med-jai of future generations as well. I finally begin to understand what he meant. I have a difficult time, thinking of your brother as a Med-jai. To me, he is Rameses reborn. . .the reincarnation of my friend. I am sorry for your loss, Princess."  
  
Acacia started to protest that she was just a Med-jai woman, the sister of the chieftain, but Anck wasn't finished. She continued, "But this is the first time I have heard of this. . .Lock-nah almost killed Ardeth once before? Before they encountered each other in the O'Connell home in London? Why has he said nothing to Celia about this? And you are the sister of the Med-jai chieftain, the chieftain who is king, general, and seer. You are a princess, Acacia Bey."  
  
Acacia found she couldn't argue with that logic, and didn't even try. Instead, she replied in a low voice, "It is true. Lock-nah almost killed Ardeth once before. We never speak of it, for it happened at the same time as my. . .the other. . .it happened when Ardeth was seventeen. Just after that one killed Andreas. He wasn't satisfied with killing the Med-jai chieftain. No, he wished to kill my other two brothers as well."  
  
Anck stopped and looked at her closely. Acacia continued, shuddering, "It did not matter to him, you see, which brother he killed. And so, Ardeth sacrificed himself so Anatol could get to safety. My nine year old brother ran to the only remaining horse and returned to the camp. He needed to find the Commander for our tribe. And when they returned to the place where my eldest brother fell, they also found Ardeth hanging from a post by his wrists. . .his back a bloody mess."  
  
Acacia looked at Anck, noting the other woman's obvious horror. Anck's lips trembled, as if she was holding back tears, but Acacia continued, "Lock-nah was a swaggering, arrogant ass who enjoyed inflicting pain. He had his men tie my brother to that post, and then they took turns whipping him. That is the only reason Lock-nah survived that day. Because Ardeth was focused on surviving, while our commander's focus was on rescuing and protecting our new chieftain."  
  
Acacia took a deep breath, then looked at her companion. To her surprise, tears were now rolling down Anck's face, the concubine not even attempting to wipe them away. Acacia almost reached out to do it for her, then remembered that Anck had no physical body. Instead, she went on, "That set the tone for the next nine years. My brother found his job as a chieftain an uphill battle because of that. The elders thought him too soft to rule properly. The warriors knew better."  
  
"What????????" Anck cried out in horror. She shook her head, her long black hair flying about her face as she cried out, "No! He was just a boy himself. . .what was he supposed to do, allow Lock-nah to capture his nine year old brother? When he just watched his older brother die? What kinds of men ruled you Med-jai at this time?" She shook her head, murmuring something in a language which Acacia didn't recognize.  
  
"It displeased us all. So you see, Anck-su-namun, there is a reason why Anatol, Aleta and I are so protective of Ardeth. It goes beyond the simple protectiveness one feels for a brother. I wager it even goes further than your own desire to protect Celia. And I will not allow a petty little woman like Sanure denigrate my brother. Ardeth is young, but he is wise. He earned that wisdom, along with the sorrow which we all see in his eyes. Now he has a woman to drive that sorrow away, and I will allow no one to denigrate that woman, either,"Acacia replied.  
  
"Would you wish to have a partner, then, Acacia? I cannot tell Celia of that night's work. But this I swear. If Lock-nah does rise again. . .then I will make him sorry that he ever harmed your family. I swear it on the blood of my forever friend," Anck hissed. Acacia was taken aback somewhat by the obvious fury in the spirit's voice. But she didn't doubt Anck's sincerity. She invoked her friendship with Ardath. . .a binding vow indeed. Acacia inclined her head in agreement, smiling at her new ally. Perhaps, in time, she could learn to trust this woman after all. Perhaps.  
  
. . .  
  
The rest of the day passed without incident, if the visit received by Sanure was ignored. The visit, paid by Acacia and Anck, would provide entertainment for the Med-jai for several months. Not just the Med-jai, but Imhotep as well. He didn't know what amused him more; the little queen's ferocious response or Acacia and Anck's warnings. By the time dinner was ready, the robes of both the bride and groom were finished, while a few more pearls were left on Miranda's dress. That would be finished tonight. Tomorrow, the festivities would begin.  
  
According to Med-jai tradition, the wedding festivities lasted three days, with the wedding itself taking place on the second day. This would be a special wedding, for more than one reason. Of course, they were celebrating the wedding of their chieftain. But Imhotep was no longer a threat to the Med-jai people, and the sword which hung over their heads for the last three thousand years was now gone.  
  
Much to his surprise, Imhotep was invited to the festivities, though he was certain it was more to keep an eye on him than anything else. But he accepted the offer, shyly made by little Damara Bey, if for no other reason than to find out more about the Med-jai of today. Had things changed at all during the last three thousand years? And. . .if they had, could Imhotep perhaps find a place in this strange world as he atoned?  
  
He thought the answer might be 'yes,' the more time he spent among these people. Imhotep found the hatred easing as he watched the Med-jai. In some ways, few things changed. People were still the same. They still argued and fought, they still loved and laughed. The language changed, and some of the customs. But he was finding that the Med-jai of today were not the shadowy demons which haunted him for the last thirty centuries. Perhaps the only true demon was Khaldun himself.  
  
Which wasn't to say that Imhotep forgave the Med-jai for what they did to him. He hadn't. But each day, he found himself questioning his hatred for these people who guarded the desert for such a long time, even as they protected their homes and families. The result of yet another argument between himself and the little queen. . .she reminded him that the succeeding generations of the Med-jai had little choice in their duties.  
  
They had to keep watch over Hamunaptra. . .slaves to the foolishness of their ancestors. Cursed, just as Imhotep was. If they failed, Imhotep would rise and destroy their homes, their families, everything they loved. What other choice did they have? Imhotep did not want to hear her words, did not want to listen to those truths. Until the little queen told him that the Med-jai were no more evil than Imhotep was. They were not evil. . .they did an evil thing, but they were not evil.  
  
There were times when Imhotep hated the reincarnation of Ardath for that, for forcing him to think about others. But it was then that his inner voice would return and remind him of the atonement still ahead. That would be part of his penance. And he could only atone by learning. He could only learn by listening. There were times when Imhotep hated that inner voice as well, because he knew that voice was right.  
  
But it was not that inner voice which led him to accept the shy invitation from Ardeth Bey's niece. It was Imhotep's growing loneliness, and his love of children that never truly died. When he accepted Damara's offer, Imhotep was touched by her sweetness and bravery. She had not the bravado of Alex O'Connell, but a quiet bravery all her own. He smiled at the little girl, under the watchful and protective eye of her mother, and his heart was warmed by Damara's answering smile.  
  
Was there hope for him, then? For three thousand years, these people hated him and feared him, called him 'Creature.' But he heard Mathayus the Scorpion King tell Anck-su-namun, 'they must call him 'Creature.' For if they see him as a man, then they will surely perish.' But now, here was this little girl shyly smiling at him, as if he was just another man instead of the monster who tried to destroy her world more than once, and hope flared in his soul.  
  
Hope, Imhotep decided, was painful. It meant pain, and it meant responsibility. It meant no excuses. . .it meant moving forward, and while Imhotep was powerful, he now saw that he was also weak. Oh, he continued to have the gifts of the mind provided by the hom-dai, he still had his magic, and he was still immortal. But Imhotep feared that he did not have the strength required to allow himself to hope. To move forward.  
  
And in Damara's eyes, Imhotep saw that strength. The little girl reminded him of Rameses when he was a child, and that gave Imhotep chills. Because of whom Rameses was now, and what he was to this little girl. Imhotep heard that Damara's father abandoned her while she was in her mother's womb, and the love which the child would have given to him was given to Ardeth Bey. Imhotep could believe it. He watched his old enemy/old friend with his niece and little Miranda.  
  
And that was the greatest dilemma, was it not? Quite apart from everything else, there was the matter of Rameses reborn. Imhotep was caught between his ancient hatred of the Med-jai and his equally ancient love for the royal siblings, Rameses and Nefertiri. Every time he looked at Ardeth Bey, he saw first the Med-jai markings, the symbol of everything Imhotep endured. He saw the young man's forefathers, not the man himself.  
  
But when the young king smiled at his wife-to-be, or at his niece, or at the child who would be his daughter. . .Rameses would be all that Imhotep could see. Rameses, his best friend, whom Imhotep betrayed repeatedly. Imhotep found this new life of his difficult, for that meant facing what he did to Rameses. A few hours earlier, while the boy Jason was in his tent, the boy made a strangely insightful remark.  
  
It is easier being the victim, he said, and he meant himself. But sometimes, Imhotep thought it applied to him just as well. Thanks to the inner voice which refused to give him any rest, Imhotep was forced to see himself through the eyes of others. This was worse than when he was in the Underworld. There, he was simply forced to experience the pain of those whom he hurt. This. . .this was much worse.  
  
It was nothing that Imhotep could quantify, though he tried. In the Underworld, he wasn't forced to see the fear in the eyes of children as he passed. Some even hid their faces in the skirts of their mothers, or in the robes of their fathers. It hurt, seeing that fear in the eyes of children, and it hurt worse to know that it was justified. He hurt children in the past, Imhotep could not deny that. But. . .and he knew he was making excuses for himself. . .there were reasons for that.  
  
He kidnapped Alex O'Connell because the child was a means to an end. He kidnapped the child because the little boy wore the Bracelet of Anubis, and Imhotep needed it. The Bracelet chose its wearer, according to the old legends. At that time, Imhotep was more focused on what he could do with the power of the Army of Anubis than anything else. He had no wish to leave the little boy with Lock-nah, for while Imhotep didn't know the huge man, he knew his kind.  
  
There were other examples, of course. To this day, Imhotep struggled with his guilt over the death of Rameses' first child, the child now called 'Miriam.' He wasn't to blame, not really. Khaldun's man pushed Ardath over the railing for warning Seti. It was Khaldun's fault, but Imhotep still hated losing a patient, for any reason. He hated hearing Rameses trying to muffle his grief, even as he fought to comfort his beloved.  
  
How many other children did he hurt? There was Nefertiri, for she watched as her father was murdered. She was so young that night, so young and still learning about the world. When Nefertiri screamed, 'niy,' Imhotep looked up at the balcony. For one brief moment, Imhotep's eyes met the eyes of both royal siblings, as Rameses pulled his younger sister back from the railing before she could fall to her death and join her father.  
  
Miranda Ferguson. . .Imhotep searched his soul, wondering if there was another way he could have discovered what he needed to know, upon his reawakening. And much to his dismay, he realized there was. There was no need for him to kidnap Miranda Ferguson, or harm her mother. He could have simply infiltrated the O'Connell home and found out what he needed to know. He did it before.  
  
More to the point, these children grew up in the aftermath of his first rising. Never mind the thirty-plus years which Rameses reborn spent fearing the possibility of Imhotep's return to the mortal world. . .these children saw what happened when Imhotep arose from his grave. Many of them lost their fathers to his wrath, and given that, was it so strange that he would be hated and feared? Unfortunately, the answer was 'no.'  
  
Imhotep knew not what to do with this insight. . .he grew to fear and hate these moments, because each new insight made him feel lost. Slowly, even his hatred was taken from him, and that left Imhotep floundering and frightened. Everything which governed his actions for three thousand years was taken from him. Anck-su-namun. His hatred of Seti. And now, his hatred of the Med-jai. What was left, then, to fill the emptiness inside? Or was that part of his penance as well?  
  
. . .  
  
Aside from those on patrol, it was almost always an early night for the Med-jai. Evy didn't mind, for she was busy all day, and the baby was taking up most of her remaining energy. The baby, and worrying about what Rick would do. It wasn't that she distrusted her husband. . .if that were the case, she wouldn't be married to him. But she knew Rick was up to something, and she wasn't sure what that something was.  
  
Nor was she certain she wanted to know. She had an uneasy feeling that Rick would ignore her request to leave Ardeth alone about his. . .inexperience. Evy knew that her husband cared for Ardeth, much more than he was willing to admit. But she also knew that Rick was a big brother just waiting to happen, and part of being a big brother was teasing the younger sibling unmercifully. She was a younger sister. . .she had plenty of training in *that* department from Jonathan.  
  
What Rick failed to understand, however, was how sensitive Ardeth was. The Med-jai chieftain was very good at fooling most people, but like his own bride-to-be, Evy saw past the stoic mask to the real Ardeth Bey. Her other older brother was a man who spent most of his life, fulfilling the duties of his status within his nation.  
  
Further, regardless of his duties as a chieftain, to marry and procreate, Ardeth was not one to give his heart lightly, and Evy's observations told her that he couldn't give his body lightly either. In fact, it seemed to her that Ardeth had an easier time trusting his heart to people, than his body. Evy quietly brought this up with Celia, not long after it was announced that the Med-jai Elders agreed to the marriage. Her friend merely smiled and answered, "I know." Nothing more was said.  
  
Finally, no one she knew was blind to Ardeth's good looks. Evy took a certain sisterly pride, though she knew it to be selfish and shallow, in knowing that Ardeth wasn't just good looking. He had the ability to take a woman's breath away, especially when he smiled. He was beautiful. But to hear such things made him uncomfortable, for what good did it do when he was fighting for his life?  
  
Unless he was fighting a woman who hid behind a mask, it did no good at all, and Ardeth was a very practical, very sensible person. Further, he was just a boy when the reins of command were passed to him, and in some ways, Evy knew her brother was still a seventeen year old boy. A sexually inexperienced seventeen year old boy, with the fierce pride of that child combined with the deadly skills of a man almost twice his age.  
  
Rick didn't mean to hurt Ardeth. He never did. Whether he was teasing their friend or whether he was lashing out at Ardeth for something the chieftain couldn't control, Evy knew Rick didn't mean to hurt him. But lately, especially since meeting Celia, Ardeth seemed less inclined to let things go. Evy noticed her brother do things that were unlike him. . .like threatening to shoot Izzy in the ass. . .ever since he met Celia.  
  
Anck, now a cautious ally, suggested that it was because Celia loved him for himself. There was not the need for him to mask his emotions with her, because she would not think less of him. She was not interested in him for what he could do for her, but because he was Ardeth. Unlike O'Connell, she added fiercely, who was only interested in what Ardeth could do for him. Evy almost argued that, but thought better of it. Anck was trying desperately to make amends, and she wasn't willing to give Rick much leeway. She wouldn't listen if Evy defended her husband.  
  
Besides, Evy realized that to someone who didn't know Rick or Ardeth very well, that was exactly what it looked like. And it was only recently that Anck-su-namun allowed Ardeth into her heart, so there was a reason she was as overprotective of Ardeth. Until Anck-su-namun was ready to give Rick a chance, trying to defend her husband would do Evy no good. And all through the evening, the Englishwoman sensed the dead concubine watching Rick carefully.  
  
Both she and Evy were surprised when Ardeth retired. He was to meet with the commanders in his tent, and before leaving for that meeting, the only person to approach him was Celia. Evy smiled as she watched her friends together. Ardeth desperately wanted to kiss her, Evy could tell, but some of the Med-jai were still rattled by the public display of affection after the confrontation between Celia and Sanure. And as ever, Ardeth was extremely sensitive to his fiancee's safety.  
  
The nightly ritual was performed. . .the Elders releasing the rest of the Med-jai to patrol, or to put their children to bed. The release was also a signal to Ardeth, that it was time to meet with his Commanders. This was not a nightly occurrence, but whenever all twelve commanders were in the main camp together. Evy did not yet hear about when the Asu tribe would leave Hamunaptra, and head home, but she knew they had a home.  
  
Acacia Bey told her about it. . .it was built at the beginning of Seti's reign. He ordered Menes Bey, the father of Hamadi and Shakir, to build a sanctuary which would be an evacuation point. If Thebes was ever overrun, the Med-jai could take women and children to this fortress sanctuary, including the concubines and the children of the royal family. Like Hamunaptra, it would sink beneath the sand with a push of a lever. Unlike Hamunaptra, it was a city for the living.  
  
After the Med-jai were exiled for casting the hom-dai, Shakir Bey led the journey to their new home. It was Terumun who named their new city, Tiri, in honor of Princess Nefertiri. And over the years, the Med-jai began developing new ways to protect Hamunaptra. Originally, the Med-jai were positioned in a radius around Hamunaptra, in an ever-growing circle that eventually reached a few miles outside Thebes.  
  
However, by the time Imhotep was in his grave for a hundred years, the twelve tribes were so large, the tribes were tripping over each other. At that point, Rameses Bey suggested that four tribes guard Hamunaptra at a time. The other eight tribes would retire to Tiri and train until they were needed. However, there were times when those four tribes would not be replaced for many years.  
  
In the meantime, the remaining eight tribes grew lazy and out of practice. People were often fickle, and forgot their purpose without reminders. The Med-jai were human beings, after all, Acacia told Evy. And in those early centuries, there were few real threats to Hamunaptra. The Med-jai became complacent until an Asu chieftain died, a man named after Shakir Bey. One man, driven mad by the lonely years away from his family, turned against the chieftain and killed him.  
  
The murder sent shockwaves through the Med-jai, and the commanders once more realized that reform was needed. Shakir Bey's only child was a nineteen year old girl, a widow with a small child of her own. There was no way her two year old son could rule the Asu tribe, so the Med-jai had their first female chieftain. Like Acacia and Aleta, Athena Bey chose to take her birth name back after the death of her husband.  
  
Athena made sweeping changes, and since she learned about politics and the ways of a warrior at her father's knee, she knew how to get her way. She established a routine, which would govern the Med-jai for the next several centuries. The four tribes stationed at Hamunaptra were not to remain there longer than two years. In the meantime, the tribes who were at Tiri were to practice. . .should they fail in this endeavor, the most senior chieftain/commander had the authority to discipline any stragglers.  
  
Evy was initially surprised that the Med-jai would have a female chieftain. Acacia reminded the Englishwoman that the Med-jai kept to the old traditions of ancient Egypt. There were very few women warriors. . .there was no need. The women defended their homes and children when the men weren't around. The women and older children were, for lack of a better word, the home guard. The last line of defense.  
  
And no one could ever doubt the abilities of Athena Bey. In some ways, she could be just as ruthless as Rameses. Evy recalled what Celia told her about Scottish custom, and how the laird (Lord) of a particular sept or clan was called by the clan name. The example used was her own family. . .the laird would be called, 'The Ferguson.' In some ways, what Celia told her about the Scottish clans reminded Evy of the Med-jai.  
  
Especially regarding the chieftain. She smiled, remembering her conversation with Acacia about Athena Bey. Not surprisingly, she learned that Athena was also a great heroine among the later generations of the Med- jai. But the stories of Athena never touched Altair's heart, the way the story of Lady Ardath did, so the wife of one chieftain and the mother of another never named any of her children after that heroine.  
  
Which in turn made Evy wonder about something else. Why did the story of Athena not touch a chord with Altair? No, it didn't touch a chord with Evy, but what was so special about Lady Ardath, that Altari would name her son after the long-dead concubine? It was possible, of course, that the Med-jai matriarch was drawn to the story of Lady Ardath, by the similarities between Lady Ardath and Altair. . .two young girls from far away, who found a new life in a strange country. But Evy couldn't help thinking there was more to it than that.  
  
In any event, Athena changed everything, though later Greek additions to the Med-jai tried to eradicate her story. It was unseemly for a woman to have such power, in their minds. But their attempts failed, and Athena's place in history was secured.  
  
With the risings of Imhotep, things changed once more. Acacia had not been to Tiri in almost ten years. Once the Asu tribe returned to their home, Ardeth would make more changes. And that was the final part of Evy's concern about Rick approaching Ardeth. He had a monumental task ahead of him, once the decision was made to return to Tiri, and he really didn't need Rick teasing him about his lack of sexual experience.  
  
It never even occurred to her that he might approach Celia about it.  
  
. . .  
  
The following morning was the beginning of the wedding festivities, and to Rick O'Connell, it seemed like everything changed. Well, there were still the wary looks in the general direction of Imhotep's tent, but that was to be expected. Hell, Rick would have been worried if those ceased. But the atmosphere otherwise was a festive one. Their chieftain was getting married, and it was a time for celebration.  
  
Rick decided to take advantage of the festive atmosphere by having a long-overdue Talk with Celia. However, he had to wait in line. After breakfast, and before the warriors went on patrol or to their practice sessions, a number of them made a point to speak to their future queen. Aleta Bey told him that it was their way of acknowledging her as their chieftain's wife, and thus, granting their allegiance to her.  
  
Then there was Jonathan, who had a little Talk of his own. It seems Rick wasn't the only person who remembered certain things about Nassor. Jonathan cornered the young woman only moments after the last of the warriors and acknowledged her as their chieftain's wife. Rick listened in disbelief as Jonathan told Celia, "I am not like Nassor. My affection for Ardeth is very different from Nassor's affection for Rameses. But one thing remains the truth. If you *ever* hurt him, I'll. . .I'll. . ."  
  
"I know, Jonathan," Celia replied soothingly. Rick watched as she took Jonathan's hand in her own and added, "You know, Nassor had this conversation with Ardath, or a similar conversation, after the first night she spent with Rameses. And I'll tell you the same thing she told him. I would sooner cut out my own heart, than hurt him." Rick gave a low whistle, just under his breath. Hmm. The thing was, he could easily see Celia doing just that if she ever hurt Ardeth deliberately.  
  
Jonathan huffed slightly, then replied, "It seems to me that she said a bit more than that, but that's fine then. As long as you understand I won't stand for Ardeth being hurt. Rick does quite enough of that, Ardeth doesn't need it from you." Rick's eyebrows climbed right into his hairline, and it didn't seem likely that they would climb out anytime soon. And just what in the hell was *that* supposed to mean?  
  
Celia chuckled softly, and replied, "Been talking with my previous incarnation, have you? That sounds like something she would bring up. She and Rameses aren't quite ready to let go and move on, I think. Jonathan, I swear by everything I have ever held dear. . .I will never willingly harm Ardeth, and I will never willingly betray him. I love him so much, I. . ." She fell silent, and Jonathan put his free hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Then nothing more will be said. I know you love him, Celia, and he loves you. Make him happy, Celia, and take good care of him," Jonathan answered. He leaned down and gently kissed her forehead, adding an Egyptian blessing, before he walked away. As he did, he called over his shoulder, "Go ahead, Rick, it's your turn now." Rick stared after his brother-in-law in shock, even as he found himself moving toward his fellow American. How in the hell. . .?  
  
"So, Rick, what did you want to talk about?" Celia asked, folding her arms over her chest. A tiny smile played about her mouth, as she continued, "In the last twenty minutes, I've had some twenty warriors swear to give their lives to protect me, as well as an Englishman threaten to disembowel me if I ever hurt Ardeth. So. . .where in that spectrum will you fall?" Rick was still trying to catch up.  
  
When he finally did, he offered her his most charming smile and draped his arm around her shoulders, saying, "Oh, Celia. . .a word?" He steered her away from the practice field. He really didn't want to run the risk of Ardeth overhearing this conversation. For that matter, he didn't want most of the camp to overhear this conversation, especially since he really *did* care about Ardeth, and didn't want to publicly embarrass him.  
  
Once they got to the rear of a tent which didn't seem occupied, Rick's mind went blank. During the last few hours, he rehearsed in his mind what he wanted to say. And now, everything he rehearsed flew out of his mind. Celia simply looked at him with an amused expression. . .damn her, did she learn that from Ardeth? More than likely. More and more, imagining Ardeth and Celia's children scared the living hell out of Rick O'Connell. Forget Imhotep and the Scorpion King. . .that was REAL scary.  
  
Maybe that was why, instead of standing there, looking like an idiot, Rick finally blurted out what he wanted to tell her. Instead of his attempt at subtlety, Rick heard himself saying, "Celia. . .I feel that there's something you need to know. Something very important, which will affect the rest of your life with Ardeth." Or at least your wedding night, and Rick winced at his own delivery. Okay. That *seriously* sucked.  
  
What made it even worse was Celia's reaction. Rick imagined a half dozen things she could have said or done, when he made that particular announcement. She could have even gone so far as to slap his face. Instead, she simply raised her eyebrows questioningly, a faint smile hovering at her mouth, and asked, "And that would be?"  
  
Damn her. She never did what she was supposed to. The way she was acting, Rick would swear that she either knew, or didn't care. And Rick really didn't see either happening. He replied, drawing the word out, "Well. . .how do I put this?" Celia's smile just grew a little wider, making Rick *very* nervous, and for the second time in the last ten minutes, he blurted out what he wanted to say, "Ardeth's a virgin!"  
  
By this time, Celia could have passed for Rick's twin sister, if you ignored her diminutive stature and vastly different coloring. Her eyebrows rose clear into her hairline, although that wasn't much of a feat given her long hair and bangs. She looked at him steadily for several moments, and in that time, Rick almost fooled himself into thinking that he surprised her. When she finally did speak, that illusion was shattered. She merely asked, "And you're telling me this because. . .?"  
  
Huh? Rick blinked as he realized just how badly he fooled himself. Or was it that Celia was just surprised that he would even tell her? Nope, best not to go there. That would mean getting inside Celia's head, which Rick considered a very scary place. Rick finally scratched his head and replied slowly, "Uh. . .because I thought it was something you'd want to know?" He couldn't quite keep the question out of his voice, as hard as he tried. And wouldn't she want to know?  
  
Here again, however, he was reminded that he didn't *want* to get inside Celia's head. Her eyebrows merely raised a little higher as she asked, "And, why would you think that?" Rick repeated the question silently, trying to figure out why she would even ask that. Maybe it was just the sorts of women he knew, but he always thought that women wanted a man who was more experienced than she, to show her how it was done.  
  
Finally, he repeated her question, "Why do I THINK it?" Celia nodded, her eyes filled with curiosity and amusement, and for the first time, something new occurred to Rick. He slowly started to smile. Oh, now that would make sense! After all, his conversation with Ardeth took place weeks earlier, before Ardeth even admitted that he was in love with Celia. With that in mind, Rick asked with a broad, almost evil smile, "You mean you guys already....?"  
  
He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, a little surprised at this new facet to his old friend. And then he yelped in surprise and pain as Celia punched him in the arm. As hard as she could, which was pretty damn hard, ignoring for the moment that she sometimes still punched like a girl. Celia glared at him, asking with true annoyance for the first time, "No, you dolt, we haven't already! I mean, what business is it of yours?"  
  
Now *that* was a question which Rick was hard pressed to answer. And worse yet, Celia didn't look like she would let him off the hook. Much to Rick's own surprise, he found himself sputtering and stuttering, no doubt impressing Celia with his wisdom by finally answering, "Well, uh. . .that is. . .um. . ." Rick groaned inwardly. He hadn't stammered this much in front of a woman since he confiscated the archaeological tools for Evy, shortly after they first met.  
  
Celia didn't help either. She asked simply, "Yes?"  
  
Damn her, she would make him say it. Rick finally shrugged with a sigh and answered, "I dunno." Then winced at his own lack of subtlety. He didn't mind his own lack in that department when there was something that needed to be done. . .like rescue his son, or kick Imhotep's ass for killing his wife. But right now. . .right now, subtlety would have helped.  
  
He was made painfully aware of this when Celia rolled her eyes, actually stamped her foot, and seethed in a low voice, "Men! Do you think it really MATTERS that Ardeth is a virgin?" She shook her head, stamped her foot *again,* and muttered some uncomplimentary things about men in general, and Rick in specific, under her breath, ending with a French curse that always made Rick blush.  
  
However, that in turn got Rick's Irish up. . .literally. . .and he glared right back at her. He put his hands on his hips, unconsciously looming over her, and asked, "Well, do I really have to spell it out for you? He won't know HOW, okay?" As soon as the words were out, Rick winced. Okay, none of this was particularly smooth, but that was. . .that was bad. Even Rick had to admit that. And Evy would have killed him if she heard that.  
  
As it was, Celia's hands were now firmly attached to her own hips and she got right in his face as she fired back, "One, you're not giving Ardeth nearly enough credit. Two, I know how, and that's all that matters." Rick found himself going wop-jawed at that remark, and Celia took full advantage of that, continuing, "Ardeth is very smart, Rick. . .I think we can figure out what happens between the two of us." This last was said in a borderline-condescending tone.  
  
Rick just looked at her, ignoring her condescending tone for the moment, and said, "It really doesn't matter to you that your new husband is inexperienced." He shook his head in total shock, repeating, "I just told you that your husband, a grown man of thirty-three, is a virgin, and this poses no problem for you at all?" He looked around, just to make sure no one heard him, though Celia's expression hadn't changed at all.  
  
The young woman gave him her sweetest smile and replied in an equally sweet voice, "Not in the least." Rick just shook his head once more. He couldn't wrap his mind around it. There wasn't even a hint of chagrin on her face. As if. . . Rick's head snapped up so fast, his neck hurt, but he ignored the pain for the moment. She added with a smile, "Although, if it makes you feel better, Mr O'Connell. . .I already knew."  
  
"You. . .knew?" Rick repeated, a bit stupidly, he had to admit. Celia merely smiled at him very sweetly. By now, her smile bordered on saccharine, and Rick said again, "You knew? How on earth is that possible? If I know Ardeth, he would never admit it to you. . .he's too proud." Celia's slim shoulders shook as she placed her hand over her mouth, her dark hazel eyes twinkling with barely suppressed mirth.  
  
"Oh come now, Mr O'Connell! Of course Ardeth didn't tell me! But there are other ways you can communicate with a person. Body language, for instance," Celia replied. Body language? Uh, no. . .that mental image was too disturbing. During the last few months, Rick had his life turned upside down so many times, he probably should have been used to it. But he wasn't. Celia continued, "I figured it out months ago."  
  
She paused, waggling *her* eyebrows this time (and talk about disturbing), then added, "Get your mind out of the gutter, Rick. Although I won't tell you that you drew the incorrect conclusions from my comment about body language." Incorrect. . .? Oh. . . my. . .gawd! Rick felt his jaw drop open, and Celia merely smiled sweetly again. He was really starting to fear that expression. It creeped him out, about like Imhotep's evil little smirk creeped him out.  
  
"You. . .you are. . ." he sputtered, trying desperately to find the words needed to express his. . .shock. Here she was, looking so innocent and fragile. . .and Rick decided to stop right there, because it was at that point that Anck-su-namun quietly materialized behind Celia. Her expression warned Rick to shut his mouth. . .and his brain. . .because if he didn't, he would find himself trapped beneath a collapsed tent.  
  
Finally, he retrieved what remained of his tattered dignity and said, "You, Miss Celia Ferguson, are a very, very naughty girl." Okay, so she wasn't really a girl, but she was four years younger than he was. Anck-su- namun looked at him questioningly, and he added in a voice so phony, it even made him sick, "And I mean that in the nicest possible way, of course." It didn't fool Anck-su-namun. It didn't fool Celia, either.  
  
"Riiiiiiiiight," Celia drawled, "and I'm the reincarnation of Seti the First. Down, Anck, I'm being sarcastic." A quick, wary glance to the ghost standing resolutely behind Celia told Rick that his former enemy was, indeed, scowling. Rick wasn't sure what was scarier. . .Anck-su-namun controlling herself because Celia asked it of her, or what would happen when that control snapped.  
  
And then it occurred to him that not only was Celia being sarcastic. . .she might well be mocking him. He heard an echo of his own remarks to Ardeth on the dirigible, 'she's a reincarnated princess, and I'm a warrior for God.' He peered at her face closely, trying to figure out if Ardeth told his fiancee about that conversation. He found no sign of mockery, but that proved little. It was then that Anck-su-namun finally spoke.  
  
"Oh, enough!" she exclaimed in disgust. Both Rick and Celia looked at her, but the dead concubine was looking only at Rick. She continued, sounding *very* annoyed, "She is being sarcastic, not mocking. Celia did not know of the conversation you held after your wife regained her memories of being Nefertiri. . .and you should have known better than to think Ardeth would ever tell her. He is too proud to share that much detail with her, when they are not even wed! You are an unworthy reincarnation to Terumun!"  
  
Okay, now that was enough! Rick glared, saying, "Like you have any room to talk, lady? Let's see here. . .you killed my wife, kidnapped my son. You betrayed a man who suffered the hom-dai for you, and you betrayed your best friend. You have the gall to judge me as being an unworthy successor? Look in the mirror, sister, 'cause unworthy is your middle name, and you sure as hell didn't deserve another chance!"  
  
"That was not for you to decide, Rick. She has been a new chance, to atone for what she did. Just as you were. I. . ." Celia began. She stopped in mid-sentence, her features clouding over with confusion. Then she said slowly, "That's strange. Anck. . . when you and Imhotep killed Seti, Nefertiri warned the Med-jai. I. . .or maybe Ardath. . . saw that. She saw you force Imhotep to leave. And then she saw you take your own life. But. . .what happened to Nefertiri?"  
  
"That's right," Rick said, distracted from his anger, "Evy almost fell over the side of the dirigible, because she was seeing Nefertiri's life. I. . .don't remember what happened next. . . the next thing I see for Terumun is the ride to Hamunaptra. Did Nefertiri fall from the balcony?" Anck lowered her eyes, and Rick thought that was the case. Then she slowly shook her head, and Rick felt a sudden chill cut through his body.  
  
"Niy. Nefertiri did not fall to her death. Rameses. . .he caught her. He. . .he heard her scream and rushed to her aid. Ardeth does not yet remember this. The other memories have been enough for him to handle. Right before I took my own life, I looked up toward the balcony, because I thought I heard Ardath's voice. . .and I saw Rameses pull Nefertiri to safety," Anck replied.  
  
"Then that's what I'm seeing. Ardath must have been drawn to. . .to the balcony. Yes. Because she was screaming for you to stop, Anck. She saw everything," Celia whispered, shivering ever so slightly. Anck-su- namun's bronzed skin turned ashen, and in spite of everything this woman did to him and his family, Rick O'Connell almost felt sorry for her. Ardath was there. She cried out for Anck-su-namun to stop.  
  
"She saw what I did. . .and she forgave me. Celia. . .I must go. Will you. . .will you be all right?" Anck-su-namun asked, her voice trembling. Celia nodded, looking stunned herself, and the concubine disappeared. One moment she was there, and the next. . .she wasn't. Rick blinked, shaking his head. Hell, would he ever get used to people doing that? As if it wasn't enough that he had to put up with Imhotep. . .  
  
He looked at Celia, who was still staring at the same spot. . .the one just vacated by Anck-su-namun. She wore a strange expression on her face, as if she was trying to work something out in her mind. At last, she turned back to Rick, still looking troubled. The other American wasn't entirely sure what to say to this woman. Finally, she said, "That's the first time that's happened. I've never seen anything from *after* her death."  
  
Rick almost asked whose death she meant, then shook his head. Now, that would have been really stupid. Celia took a deep breath, then looked at him directly. Rick found himself blushing at her gaze, especially after she said in a slow, measured voice, "Now. Where were we?"  
  
"Uhm. . .I was putting my foot in my mouth, all the way up to my hip?" Rick asked almost sheepishly. Celia raised her eyebrows, looking amused. Damn her. Rick muttered under his breath in annoyance, and it was then that he really put his foot in his mouth. He glanced at Celia out of the corner of his eye, and sighed, "I guess I really should have listened to Evy when she told me to stay out of this."  
  
There was a brief silence as Celia's eyes and mouth rounded into an 'o.' The effect rather resembled a stranded fish, and it would have been amusing if the expression in her eyes hadn't changed from stunned to furious within seconds. In a tone that was more of a growl than anything else, Celia demanded, "YOU DID WHAT?????????" Oops. He was really in for it now. He just hoped there was something of him left after she was finished with him. . .because he just *knew* Evy probably wouldn't leave anything when she was finished! 


	6. Unexpected Revelations

Part Five  
  
Unbeknownst to Rick and Celia, there was someone listening to their conversation, other than the still-reeling Anck-su-namun. Rick had no idea, but he led Celia to the backside of Jonathan's tent. After concluding his own conversation with Celia, Jonathan returned to his tent, still thinking about what he told her. He didn't believe that Celia would deliberately hurt Ardeth. But things needed to be said, and Ardeth was a member of Jonathan's family. Jonathan gave Rick the same talk. . .well, a watered-down version. . .when Rick and Evy were married. And as much as he hated to admit it, his family did have a tendency to make Ardeth's life. . .difficult.  
  
So, his conversation with Celia was the best way Jonathan knew to show his affection for Ardeth. Despite the awakening of his memories as Nassor, and Ardath's encouragement, Jonathan still saw himself as a wastrel and a coward. He wasn't like Ardeth, brave and strong. Jonathan smiled faintly. . .no, on the contrary. Ardeth was the son which Jonathan's own father always dreamed of having. And until recently, during Imhotep's second rising, Jonathan's brotherly love for his friend warred with resentment.  
  
That was until Jonathan saw the high price enacted from Ardeth. The scratches across Ardeth's arm and shoulder from the Mummy warrior, the cut on his shoulder (the one Rick made all the more painful when he slammed Ardeth into the pedestal). . .and the pain in his eyes when Horus was shot out of the sky. For the first time, Jonathan saw the real Ardeth Bey, instead of the stoic warrior. . .and his resentment melted away.  
  
He actually intended to go to Alex's tent, to see what the boy and Darius cooked up the previous day. Darius was intent on making sure no one would ruin his uncle's wedding day. Especially since, the seven year old told Jonathan solemnly, Auntie Aleta said it was a day for celebration indeed, that Uncle Ardeth chose a woman whom most of his family liked. Jonathan decided he didn't want to know what that meant.  
  
He never really thought about Ardeth having a love life. He supposed that he thought the chieftain was like Evy. . .her life really didn't begin until she met Rick. It was absurd, of course. While his affections were far different from Nassor's, Jonathan knew that Ardeth was considered a very attractive man. But he was also a man who closely guarded his heart, and who was unwilling to give less of himself than he could.  
  
The Englishman knew that was the driving force behind Ardeth's original reluctance to ask Celia to marry him. Not because he didn't love her, but because he didn't want her to be second in his life. Rick put Evy first. . .and Ardeth would have willingly sacrificed his chance with Celia in order for her to have a husband who could put her first in his life. Celia, of course, had other ideas, as Evy reminded their friend.  
  
And in the end, Ardeth didn't want to lead such a life. It took some time, but he eventually accepted that not giving Celia the chance to have a say in her own fate was far more selfish. And this was where Jonathan's mind was, when he overheard the conversation between Rick and Celia. Jonathan was in a compromising situation. Did he leave, and possibly expose himself. . .or did he stay, and potentially gain blackmail information to use against Rick at a later date?  
  
He decided on the latter. However, he kept his hand firmly clapped over his mouth, especially as the small American woman consistently got the better of his brother-in-law. So, Rick thought that Celia had no idea just how inexperienced Ardeth was? Oh, puh-leaze, even Jonathan knew *that,* and all without Ardeth having to say a word! Rick really needed to stop and think, before he did Ardeth any more so-called favors.  
  
He was concentrating so much on *not* laughing at the way his brother- in-law bungled this, he almost missed the best part. Rick admitting that he should have listened to Evy about this, and Celia's reaction. Jonathan fell against his pallet with a thump, tears of silent laughter running down his face. At that point, he no longer cared whether anyone heard him, and the way Celia was reaming Rick, it was unlikely if anyone did.  
  
At last, Celia ran out of insults. Ooooh, she was so angry with Rick! Jonathan regained control with a concerted effort. If this was any indication, there would be plenty of entertainment over the next two days. Rick stalked off, muttering under his breath about stubborn little American wenches, and other things that probably would have enraged Celia even further, if she heard.  
  
A few minutes later, Jonathan heard a thump against his tent flap, then Celia entered without waiting for an answer. Jonathan was on the point of waxing indignantly about her rudeness, when Celia blurted, "I can't believe his nerve! For the love of Pete, I'm thirty years old! And even if we were both inexperienced, there's still the matter of dreams. For the last few weeks, we've had dreams about our past lives. And trust me, in that lifetime, we both gained a LOT of experience!"  
  
That put images into Jonathan's head that he didn't really want. It also reminded him of all the times Nassor walked in on Rameses and Ardath while they were. . . Ew. Jonathan shook his head, and then belatedly realized that Celia knew he was here. But she was still pacing back and forth, muttering under her breath about Rick, and she finally stopped to look at him, asking, "Jonathan, do you have any idea where I can hide a body, because your brother-in-law is real close to getting his neck wrung?"  
  
"Did. . .you know I was here all along?" Jonathan asked. Celia blinked in surprise, and Jonathan continued, "You didn't. You didn't even realize that you were behind my tent all the time." Now Celia's face was turning bright red as the words penetrated her brain. Her eyes went very, very wide, and Jonathan recognized the expression. He grabbed her elbow, saying, "Oh no, my lady. . .you're going nowhere!"  
  
. . .  
  
One of these days, her tendency to shoot off her mouth without thinking later would really get her into trouble. But she was so angry with Rick for his. . .his. . .his presumption, Celia never really thought about Jonathan's presence. Truly, though, she wasn't thinking about much of anything at the time. Just getting this frustration out of her system, before she killed her best friend's husband, and her own 'brother-in-law.'  
  
Celia's face was flaming with embarassment, even as she cursed herself for her violent blushing, then cursed whoever 'gifted' her with extremely fair skin. And all the while, Jonathan was grinning like a maniac. He was enjoying this entirely too much. At least, that was what she was thinking, until he exclaimed enthusiastically, "Good show, Celia! I don't believe I've ever met anyone who could trump Rick like that, except Evy!"  
  
At that point, Celia realized that Jonathan wasn't enjoying himself at her expense. Rather, it was at Rick's expense, and that, of course, changed everything. It was very unkind, of course, but right now, she didn't care. She was still blushing, but Celia's own sense of humor returned as she replied, "Well, what do you think Evy will do when she finds out? And you know she will." Jonathan's smirk answered that, leading Celia to ask, "You'll make sure she does?"  
  
"My dear girl, I highly doubt if it will be necessary for *me* to say a blessed word to my darling baby sister. I think Anck-su-namun will do that quite well herself. She was rather put out with Rick, you know," Jonathan answered, his blue eyes twinkling with laughter. Yes, Celia noticed that. The Englishman rubbed his hands, still grinning impishly, and continued, "I say! The next few days will be quite entertaining!"  
  
Celia smirked and replied, "You do realize, Jonathan, that I didn't do it to entertain you?" The cheeky grin which Jonathan offered in response answered that question, and Celia continued, "Just making sure. But you're right. . .things will be rather interesting today and tomorrow, especially. I had my meeting with the Elders this morning. They wanted to know what drew me to Ardeth in the beginning."  
  
She sighed, thinking back to the meeting. She was more than a little surprised when she received a visit from one of the young warriors in training, telling her that her presence was requested in the tent of the Elders.  
  
Jonathan raised his eyebrows questioningly, and Celia explained, "I told the story of how I first met y'all. You remember at the docks in Cairo, and how Ardeth kinda scared both me and Miranda at first. . .and how he won over my daughter with his gentleness." Jonathan nodded. Strange, how on that day, she had *no* inkling that her life was just about to change forever. She always thought that such momentous changes would be heralded by. . . well, by something.  
  
Then again, she traveled to Egypt from the United States during a Depression, and growing instability throughout the world. Maybe that was warning enough that her life was about to change. There were times when she looked at everything that happened in the last few months, and felt as if she wasn't even the same person any more. Maybe she wasn't. There were days when she scarcely recognized herself from the exhausted, frustrated, frightened young woman who arrived that day.  
  
Jonathan said softly, "Ah yes. Our little mouse turned into a lioness quite unexpectedly." Celia grinned, not at all offended that he called her a mouse. That was what she was then. Or, that's what she thought she was. It took meeting Evy and Ardeth, facing down both Khaldun and Imhotep, before she realized what she should have known ages ago. She was a helluva lot stronger than she gave herself credit for. She always was. It just took the recent crises to prove it to herself.  
  
Jonathan asked, "So. . .when did you realize you were becoming attracted to our fierce Med-jai?" Celia's cheeks flamed once more, but she laughed. She understood what he meant. She and Ardeth were drawn together by mutual loneliness in the beginning. . .then friendship, forged while he was teaching her to defend herself. And of course, she *always* noticed how attractive he was. How could she not? She wasn't blind, after all. And then. . .  
  
"I suppose I first started realizing that I was attracted to him when Evy had me take out some refreshments to him and the other Med-jai warriors who were practicing. He was so relaxed, like he was that first night, remember?" she asked. Jonathan nodded and Celia continued, smiling faintly at the memory, "He turned to me, and he smiled. I swear, if Rick hadn't come by and rescued the tray, I would have dropped it!"  
  
Jonathan laughed with her, saying, "I remember. Evy was teasing you about feeling the affects of Ardeth's smile." Celia's face reddened further, but she didn't lose her smile. The Englishman was silent for a long moment, then he said almost sadly, "You know, I've been divorced several times. I would fall so hard. . .but it was never really love. Because there was never trust. I envy you that, Celia."  
  
The American woman looked at him, startled to see a wistful expression on her friend's face. Jonathan continued, "I understand where Ardeth is coming from, in a way. How do you tell if someone's interested in you for your position and money, or for yourself? I never really thought about it, you see. I thought. . .I thought the only thing I had to offer a woman was my money. Maybe that's why my marriages failed."  
  
"You know, Jonathan," Celia replied softly, trying to comfort her friend despite her lack of credibility, "I'm in no position to give advice. Miranda was the only good thing to come out of a bad choice on my part. . .she's the only reason I would go through the mess with Carstairs again. And my head is still spinning over my luck in finding Ardeth. But it seems to me you're setting your standards too low. You think money is all you've got going for you. . .but that's not true."  
  
Jonathan's eyes were unusually haunted. He didn't believe her. Celia wanted to see him smile again. She wouldn't try to make him laugh, because she didn't think it would help. Besides, she was afraid he would take it to mean that she didn't take him seriously. Celia continued, "And Jon, you don't have to be Rick O'Connell or Ardeth Bey. How many times, when Evy really needed you, have you let her down?"  
  
Jonathan pursed his lips. He wanted to be convinced, but whatever was troubling wouldn't let go of him. Still, he wanted to believe her, and Celia went on, "Never. Evy told me that you have never failed her when she needed you most. You've never failed Alex or Rick or Ardeth when they needed you. Goddess, Jon! If it weren't for you, Ardeth would be dead, he would have died at Ahm Shere! Don't think I can forget that!"  
  
"You're wrong, though," Jonathan said softly. Celia frowned in confusion, and her friend continued, "I have failed one person you mentioned. I failed Alex." The American's frown grew. Just how in the hell did he figure that? Jonathan swallowed hard and closed his eyes. The teasing conversation just took a very strange turn, and Celia was trying to figure out that happened, what upset Jonathan so badly.  
  
She was about to reach out to him, when his eyes met hers. Celia froze in place, and Jonathan told her, "You know, of course, that Rick and Evy adopted Alex, not that long after they were married. That his birth mother was our distant cousin, who couldn't take care of the tyke." Celia nodded slowly, her blood running cold. She had a feeling she knew what he was about to say, and she didn't know how to react, if she was right.  
  
Apparently encouraged by her silence, Jonathan continued, "What you don't know. . . what they didn't tell you because *they* don't know. . .is that I am Alex's birth father. But I swear to you, Celia, on that grave of my father. I never knew. I didn't know until after Alex was adopted that he was mine." Celia sat back, her mind racing. Part of her wanted to lash out at Jonathan, remembering what she went through while raising Miranda alone.  
  
And another part of her wouldn't allow that. He said he didn't know, and Celia believed him. She asked hoarsely, "Evy and Rick don't know?" Jonathan shook his head, looking miserable, and Celia fell silent again. It wasn't her place to judge. She knew that. She also knew that Alex was in good hands. After a moment, Celia finally said, "Then I won't tell them. You've lived with this secret for years, Jon. Why?"  
  
"Oh, come on now, Celia, you're a bright girl, I'm sure you can figure it out! After a while, it gets rather old, seeing the disappointment in my little sister's eyes. . .and the contempt in Rick's. I. . .they are Alex's parents, Celia. I just helped to create him. I have no legal right to him, because my name is not on the birth certificate. I have no right to him, just as Carstairs had no right to Miranda," Jonathan answered.  
  
"Uh. . .hold on. Don't even think about comparing yourself to that man. You're nothing like him, nor will you ever be like him!" Celia told him with a glare. His head snapped up, and Celia continued, "Yeah, you heard me right. You're *nothing* like him. And don't let me ever hear you say otherwise again, do I make myself clear?"  
  
Jonathan blinked, then nodded very slowly, looking startled. Celia continued, "Good. Because you're much too fine a gentleman to think that way. And you have my word. . .this stays between us." Jonathan gave her a weak smile, then did something quite unexpected. He reached over to squeeze her shoulder, then drew her into a brief, fierce embrace. It was in this way that a new bond cemented an ancient friendship.  
  
. . .  
  
Saying that went badly was an understatement, and true to form, he lashed out at anyone dumb enough to get in his way as he stalked away from the confrontation. But once he calmed down, Rick O'Connell realized that he bungled the whole thing badly. First and foremost, he should have listened to Evy when she asked him to leave it alone. Secondly, he should have never made the assumption he did about Celia.  
  
And thirdly, he should have never allowed Anck-su-namun to get to him. That was stupid, and accomplished nothing. Still, in his own defense, Rick was still getting used to being on the same side as the ghost. She put his family through entirely too much for him to trust her. Rick knew he had to talk to Ardeth about what just happened with Celia. Not because he was afraid Celia would tell Ardeth. . .that wasn't her style. . .but because he knew once she regained her composure, Anck-su- namun *would* tell Ardeth. That *was* her style. Rick muttered under his breath, skirting the laughing Med-jai children. Today began the first day of the festivities for their chieftain's wedding.  
  
It was a festive occasion, on par with getting out of classes in the orphanage. He found Ardeth among the warriors who were returning from patrol. . .a different set of warriors, Rick noted, than the ones who gifted Celia with their loyalty. Of course. Patrols usually lasted two or three days, sometimes as much as a week. Ardeth increased the number of patrols in the area around Hamunaptra. Khaldun's power wasn't as great as Imhotep's, but he could still drive Med-jai warriors insane if they got too close. And too many Med-jai died already because of him.  
  
Ardeth listened intently to what the warriors told him, nodding ever so often. His hands moved in the air, as if he was sketching something for the warriors to see, and the other men all nodded their agreement. Rick looked at his friend, seeing him for the first time. By now, he should have been used to it. Everything he believed about his friend for so long was turned upside down in the space of just a few weeks. He never really saw Ardeth in his chieftain mode, as Celia called it. He saw the warrior, the sage, the loving uncle and older brother, the shy young bridegroom.  
  
But he never saw the chieftain, save in that brief moment at Izzy's airfield. The brief meeting was over, and the warriors dispersed to eat, wash, and spend time with their families. Rick watched in silence as Ardeth's shoulders slumped, and he wearily rubbed his hand across his forehead. The American thought back to the day before his own wedding, and it hit him then, just how much responsibility Ardeth carried.  
  
After a moment, Ardeth looked up and smiled wearily at Rick, asking, "What may I do for you, my friend?" Rick felt guilty, realizing he was about to add to Ardeth's exhaustion. The sun was high in the sky, and Ardeth was up before dawn. What business did Rick have, adding to Ardeth's burden? He was being selfish, telling Ardeth to spare himself. The Med- jai added, "Something troubles you, O'Connell. I can tell."  
  
Damn. When did Ardeth learn to read him so well? More to the point, why could he read Rick so well, and the American had a much harder time reading the Med-jai? However, that was neither here nor there. Ardeth took the choice from him, and Rick answered, "I just had something of an argument with your wife-to-be." Ardeth merely looked at him, and Rick added with a sigh, "I told her, Ardeth."  
  
"Told her? Told her what, O'Connell?" Ardeth asked, obviously confused. Of course he wouldn't know. They hadn't discussed it in months, not since that night on the barge. Rick looked around. . .too many people. He put his hand on Ardeth's shoulder, gently steering him away from the corral, in the opposite direction of the tents. Ardeth walked alongside him, repeating in a low voice, "What did you tell Celia?"  
  
Once they were a safe distance from people, Rick asked softly, "Do you remember what we talked about on the barge, while we were on our way to rescue Celia?" Ardeth frowned, and Rick could almost see his friend casting his mind back over the last few months. They talked about so much that night, and Ardeth had the added complication of still dealing with his head injury, to say nothing of his guilt.  
  
Rick swallowed, realizing he would do something that would damage his friendship with Ardeth. The chieftain was eyeing him with curiosity, and maybe some trepidation. Rick took a deep breath, then said, "I told her that you. . .that you're inexperienced." He couldn't say the word a second time. Saying it once was hard enough, but saying it twice? Not a chance!  
  
It took Ardeth a few seconds to process what Rick said, then all the color drained from his face. That wasn't the worst part. The look of betrayal in his friend's eyes. . .that was the worst part, and Rick felt about as low as anyone could go. Or so he thought, until Ardeth's fist flashed out from his robes, catching Rick hard across the jaw. The force of the blow knocked the American on his ass. Okay. . .now he couldn't go any lower.  
  
Rick got to his feet, shaking the cobwebs out of his head. Ardeth had yet to say anything, and that was somehow worse than him bellowing at Rick. The taller man reached out, wincing when Ardeth pulled back, and Rick said, "God, I am so sorry. I didn't mean to. . .I was trying to help." Even as he said it, he winced. . .that sounded so far beyond lame, he didn't even want to think about it. And that awful, betrayed look in Ardeth's eyes hadn't disappeared, hadn't eased.  
  
Rick being Rick, he tried again, saying, "I know I deserved that, but if it helps, that little tigress you're marrying chewed me out." He almost added a flippant remark, questioning whether Ardeth really wanted to marry such a firebrand, but held his tongue. He *really* didn't think his friend was in any mood to take it. He added, "I almost wish Lock-nah would come back, just to see Celia in action."  
  
He would come to regret that remark in the months ahead, but at this moment, it had the desired effect of making Ardeth smile. It was a small smile, almost rueful, but it also had the effect of releasing some of the tension in his friend's body. Rick said again, "I *am* sorry, Ardeth. I thought I was helping you. . .turns out, your future wife already figured it out, and ripped into me for not giving you enough credit."  
  
At last, Ardeth sighed, answering, "I know you meant well, O'Connell, but please do not help me further. I am afraid my marriage will not survive it, and I am certain that yours will not. Evy advised you against saying anything, did she not?" Rick just looked at his friend, who added, "I thought as much." This time, Ardeth didn't draw away when the American approached, or when he put a gentle hand on the Med-jai's shoulder.  
  
He didn't pull away, but there was a wariness there that hurt Rick to see. The trust was shattered, and the American had no idea how to repair it. He didn't know if it was possible, but Rick did know that he had to try. It was hard for him to acknowledge how important Ardeth was to him, even to himself, but he couldn't bear to lose his Med-jai friend. Least of all because of some stupidity on Rick's part. He struggled for several moments, trying to find the words he needed. In the end, he went for the simple truth.  
  
"Listen, Ardeth, I'll be totally honest with you. I'm not real good at this friend business, or at this brother business. Evy has decided that you two have been brother and sister in the past, that makes you her brother in this life, and I don't argue with my wife. Usually. What I'm trying to say is. . .I'm still figuring out what I'm allowed to do as your big brother. Jonathan always says that it's the right and duty of an older brother to tease his younger siblings, and I'm just taking advantage of that. Sort of," Rick said.  
  
"I remember some of those lives," Ardeth replied in a haunted voice, and Rick guessed that those memories were bad. That made the American feel bad all over again. Living with Terumun's memories was bad enough. But living with the memories of Rameses, a man reviled for refusing to allow Moses to take the Hebrew slaves from Egypt? There were times when Rick couldn't imagine living with those memories. Hell, it was hard enough for him to accept Ardeth's assertion that Rick was a Med-jai!  
  
At the same time, he remembered what Ardeth told him on the dirigible, 'A man who will not accept his past has no future.' Or something like that. Something occurred to Rick then, and he looked at Ardeth quickly, asking, "That night on the dirigible, while we were tracking Imhotep. When you told me about accepting my past. . .warning me. You were talking. . .that was from personal experience. You couldn't remember your past lives. . .and that's why you warned me about not accepting my own."  
  
"Aywa. I have known since I was a child that I was different from the others in my tribe, for I knew I had past lives, but couldn't remember them. The others remembered before they became warriors. You must understand, O'Connell, though it is difficult for you to accept. I do not speak merely to speak," Ardeth replied. Rick knew that. He gave his friend's shoulder a gentle squeeze, not knowing what else to say.  
  
Rick O'Connell was always better with his fists. And in this situation, words failed him anyhow. He would make things right with Ardeth, by giving him something no one in the Med-jai camp would ever think about giving him. A bachelor party. Yeah. That would work. He would convince Jonathan to hand over some of his booze. They couldn't have the girls, but they sure as hell could have the booze! Rick grinned to himself. Now there was an idea. Tonight, he would get Ardeth Bey drunk!  
  
. . .  
  
Ardeth thought the day couldn't get any worse. He was informed by his mother, when he couldn't find his fiancee, that the elders broke with tradition, and summoned Celia to their tent early this morning, before breakfast. They wished to hear what drew her to Ardeth. That was usually saved for the night before the wedding, but in light of her. . .unusual. . .ties to the Med-jai, the Elders changed their minds.  
  
That wasn't the worst part of the morning. The worst part came shortly after his own meeting with the Elders, when he was ambushed by Sanure's mother. She lived among the Geban tribe with her second husband, and the previous night, after her confrontation with Celia, Sanure sent a message to her mother. The old witch was *not* pleased that Ardeth sided with his future wife, and wanted to make sure he knew it.  
  
Not that he could have missed *that,* since she was practically screaming in his face. His training as a warrior conflicted with the courtesy promised to elders. On one hand, he was tempted to remove her screaming head from her body. On the other. . . Be that as it may, the current Med-jai matriarch swept in to defend her son and her future daughter-in-law. But not, unfortunately, before the biddy gave Ardeth the headaches to end all headaches. He was shooed from his mother's tent, with Altair Bey telling him to get something to eat before he fell over, and take the children with him.  
  
After listening to Sanure's mother, spending time with the little ones was a pleasure. Miranda burrowed against his side, both seeking and giving comfort. He couldn't eat at first. . .his insides were churning with tension, and the idea of food made him sick. Once he relaxed, thanks to Dari's antics, he found he *was* hungry. After breakfast, Acacia and Aleta came for the children. Celia was seen talking to first the warriors, then O'Connell. It looked like an intense conversation (that was something of an understatement), and Aleta hadn't wanted to interrupt. Instead, she came for Miranda. Ardeth was alone again, and he finished his breakfast, before returning to his tent to go over information he received from the Twelve Commanders during their meetings.  
  
And then came the conversation with O'Connell. The anger was gone, replaced with a bone deep weariness and some amusement. It wasn't his friend's fault, of course. He was trying to help, in a twisted sort of way. And Celia. Ardeth allowed himself a smile, thinking of what O'Connell told him. Celia fought back. She was worth every confrontation, every moment of dissent within the village. She fought back, not because he was the chieftain, but because she loved him.  
  
And that old woman wanted him to cast her aside. Never. That was what his mother said. Altair Bey drew herself to her full height, dark eyes blazing with fury, and spat, "NEVER! My son will never put her aside, and nor should he! For the last sixteen years, he has given everything he possesses to the Twelve Tribes of the Med-jai. He has sacrificed blood, sweat, tears, and his own health. Celia brings him joy and laughter. You dare to accuse my son of being selfish. . .it is you who are selfish, denying my son even a small bit of happiness!"  
  
Sanure's mother reared back, as if struck. She really wasn't that old. If Ardeth's memory served, she was about the same age as his own mother. But that was what Altair always called her. Never by her name, but 'that old woman.' And that woman now stared at Altair in shock. Ardeth relaxed a little more as he remembered his mother's part in the conversation. Anyone who thought his mother mellowed as she grew in age and in wisdom obviously wasn't present that morning.  
  
Ardeth's mother smiled grimly, adding, "Now, remember this, and remember it well. . .old friend. I was here when your bitch daughter attacked my son's chosen bride. I was here when your brat grandchildren attacked my granddaughter. You were not. My only complaint with my future daughter is that she has been too patient. Yesterday, her patience ran out. Your daughter should be grateful that it was Cecelia whom she attacked. . .because Acacia and Aleta would have both slit her throat."  
  
It was then that his mother shooed him from her tent, telling him to take the children with him. Altair Bey would forever see him as her son first, and the chieftain second. It was something that made him very grateful, even on those occasions when they butted heads. The knowledge that his family was still his family. Just as Celia would be his wife, regardless of whether he was just Ardeth. . .or if he was the chieftain.  
  
Celia. Ardeth's eyes narrowed as he caught sight of his future bride wandering about the tents somewhat aimlessly. He strode toward her, wanting to spend some time with her before the Elders summoned him to their tent. She looked up as he approached and gave him a tired, wan smile. She said, "Ardeth. I was afraid I would have to wait until this afternoon to see you. Are you all right? You look exhausted."  
  
Ardeth brushed away his weariness, and touched her cheek. She looked tired as well, and he said, "I am well, my love. But what of you? I heard about the Elders. . .and about O'Connell." Celia rolled her eyes, and Ardeth wrapped his arm around her waist to draw her in close. Perhaps that was not such a good idea. His body reacted instantly, and Ardeth swallowed hard. His trousers were feeling entirely too tight at the moment.  
  
"The Elders turned out to be pussy-cats. I guess I convinced them that I do love you, and not your position. So, Rick told you about our little conversation, did he?" Celia asked, winding her arms around his waist. Ardeth stifled a groan. Yesterday was not so difficult, as they were in the cool water of the oasis, which took some of the edge of his desire. This, however, was different.  
  
"He did. Just as he told me. . .how did you know, Celia?" Ardeth asked, trying to focus his mind on the conversation, rather than on his unruly body. Celia looked up at him questioningly, and that sent another bolt of desire through him. But Ardeth was unwilling to let go of her. He needed to hold her. Needed her in his arms, just as she was in his heart. Ardeth elaborated after a moment, "How did you know about. . ."  
  
Then he had to search for the words he needed to use. It wasn't necessary. Celia smiled up at him and replied, "Because I know you. You are very. . .your devotion to your people is obvious. And I remember how you struggled with me, because you were afraid of giving me less than what you thought I deserve. I know that for you, giving your heart is much easier than giving your body, because giving your body is dangerous in ways that giving your heart is not."  
  
Ardeth swallowed hard, especially when Celia released him and rested her small hands on his waist. She said softly, "I know that, the way I know that holding back is as hard for you as it is for me. I have barely more experience than you do, but I do know what that tension in your body means. We only have until tomorrow night, my prince, and then we will belong to each other for all eternity."  
  
Ardeth looked around. . .ahhh, excellent. It was just them. Perhaps in time, he would be more comfortable with public displays of affection. That was something which his mother mentioned to him. . .his discomfort with public affection made the narrow-minded among his people think that Celia cast a spell on him. He, in turn, pointed out to his mother that it mattered little what he did, for those small-minded people would come up with the same conclusion.  
  
His mother sighed her agreement. Ardeth couldn't fault her for her observation. She was trying to help. They were all trying to help. He looked back at Celia and asked hoarsely, "Then you will not object, my queen, if I give you a preview of tomorrow night, a short preview to demonstrate my eternal devotion to you?"  
  
She smiled and lifted her face to his. Ardeth met her halfway, covering her mouth with his own. Each time he kissed her, it seemed as if their bodies melted together, regardless of their clothes. This time was no different, though Ardeth's mind was no longer capable of registering where he was or what he was doing, aside from kissing his beloved. He wasn't even aware whose body was more pliant against the other's.  
  
And as it always was, the moment, the magic was shattered. This time, by a very unwelcome voice saying, "Ardeth? The Elders wish to see you. . .oh." Ardeth broke away from Celia reluctantly, a ragged moan of protest torn from his throat (or was it Celia's?) as he turned to face the soon to be dead young warrior. Hanif turned bright red with embarrassment, whether from what he interrupted or from the glare his chieftain was giving him. He stammered, "I am so sorry, Ardeth, but the Elders wish to see you."  
  
"Go, love. I need to find Evelyn anyhow. I'll see you tonight at the celebration dinner," Celia whispered, her own voice hoarse. Ardeth looked deep into her eyes, seeing promises of what was to come. He leaned forward and lightly kissed her forehead, whispering, 'I love you' in Arabic. She smiled faintly, answering, "You know, one of these days, you'll have to tell me what that means." Ardeth just smiled and released her, albeit reluctantly.  
  
"One of these days, I will tell you," Ardeth promised, then turned his gaze on Hanif. The young warrior looked even more embarrassed, and the chieftain all but growled, "You will see her safely to Evelyn's tent." It was not a request, it was a statement of fact. Hanif bobbed his head, and Ardeth turned one last time to Celia. She smiled at him, and Ardeth almost melted. Before he could, however, he stalked off. *Just one more night,* he thought, *one more night!*  
  
. . .  
  
To say Hanif was embarrassed was a huge understatement. He was among the Med-jai who knew their queen well, and vowed to protect her for the joy she brought to their chieftain. He had no wish to interrupt Ardeth, but the Elders wanted him to join them. And failing to carry out a task for the Elders was *not* the best idea. On the other hand, interrupting their chieftain while he was with his beloved was an equally bad idea. But at least Celia wouldn't allow Ardeth to kill him.  
  
They walked toward the O'Connell tent together, side by side, in silence. Hanif was worried about his queen. She was unusually quiet. Or, perhaps a better way of putting it was, she was more quiet than usual. Celia was never one to fill silences with mindless chatter, and over the weeks, Hanif learned to recognize her silences, just as he recognized Ardeth's silences. This was. . .Celia was troubled about something.  
  
Ardeth told him to look after Celia, and by Hanif's reckoning, that also meant making sure she was all right in other ways. With that decided, he asked softly, almost shyly, "What troubles you, my queen? Is it the wedding ceremony tomorrow?" Celia looked up and smiled at him faintly, a troubled expression remaining in her lovely eyes. Hanif always became annoyed with women who criticized Celia for her hazel eyes. They were beautiful eyes, changing like the desert.  
  
"I cannot give you the specifics, Hanif, but I was just given information, and I am trying to come to terms with it. It could tear apart a family, if the truth was learned. I must never allow this information to slip out. If that makes any sense," Celia finally replied. Hanif nodded. It did. Far more sense than he could acknowledge. But that part didn't matter, because his answer assured his queen that she could talk to him.  
  
And that was exactly what she did. Celia continued, "This is a problem, because I can't tell Ardeth, and I don't like starting a marriage by keeping secrets. Even if it's one that doesn't directly affect the Med- jai. But, it's not my place to tell." Hanif understood all too well. She was being pulled in several different directions at the same time. Hanif experienced this himself, especially in recent weeks.  
  
The Med-jai, though charged with an ancient, sacred duty, were human beings. Like all humans, they could be petty and vindicative. They could be selfish. . .indeed, was it not the very selfishness of Hamadi Bey which let to the casting of the hom-dai?  
  
The young warrior slowly, "I understand, my lady. I find myself in a similar position, though not in the telling of a secret. But I am divided. Should I back my chieftain, who put his own body between us and the Anubis Warriors? Or do I listen to others in this camp who demand that my chieftain sacrifice his happiness by denying his heart? It angers me, that I must make such a choice." Hanif turned to face Celia more directly, hoping he could make her understand.  
  
"They will continue to force you, Hanif," she replied, "because some will never accept me as Ardeth's wife. I know it. Ardeth knows it. You know it. I have heard those whispers, saying I should leave because my presence disrupts the Med-jai. I will tear apart this nation, because Ardeth loves me. But the truth is, their blindness will tear apart the Med- jai. They cannot accept any truth but their own, and that will destroy them. I just hope it doesn't destroy the Med-jai as well."  
  
She turned away and began walking once more. Hanif thought about her words as he struggled to catch up. She was right, wasn't she? No matter how hard Celia tried, no matter how hard she worked, there were many in this camp who would never accept her. Nothing she would do would ever be good enough, because she was an American. . . because she wasn't Med-jai. They would always find reasons to criticize her.  
  
As they walked side by side, Hanif said, "Then the next time they force me to choose. . .I will make my stand beside the chieftain of our people. Such things cannot continue. I have no desire to be part of the Med-jai, if such people are part of its future." Celia looked at him, and Hanif added, "I was suspicious of you at first. But I know you love Ardeth. I know you make him happy. And I know, if you were with us at Ahm Shere, you would have stood at his side."  
  
He paused as they reached Evelyn's tent, then added, "Just as I know that your greatest detractors were not there when so many of our warriors died. I will speak to the other warriors. This will be my wedding gift to you, Celia. All I ask is that you take care of my leader." She smiled and touched his shoulder, then his cheek. And then she ducked into the tent, leaving Hanif alone. The young warrior bit his lip, thinking about the decision he just made.  
  
It would not be an easy road. But nothing in the Med-jai way of life was ever easy, and this was no different. Perhaps that was why the nay- sayers, those who refused to give Celia a chance, annoyed him so much. They took the easy way out, rather than having the courage to acknowledge something good in something. . .someone. . .who was different. Hanif nodded to himself slowly, thinking through what came next.  
  
First, he would speak to the warriors who just returned from patrol. He would tell them of what happened during the last few days. He would tell them of his own decision, and would invite them to stand with him at Ardeth's wedding ceremony. A wedding gift to the chieftain who fought so hard for their people, for their world. He didn't know how many warriors would stand with him, but he knew he had to find out.  
  
And as for Sanure and her family. . .Hanif ground his teeth together. He could take no action against them, despite Sanure's latest act of perfidy. He was in practice with many other warriors, when that one's mother arrived in the camp and started haranguing Ardeth. Ahhh. That might be a better place to start. Hanif began to smile, remembering the looks which passed between the warriors, and the remarks made.  
  
"It is fortunate for that old bitch that Ardeth is the chieftain, for I know many warriors who would have struck her down, regardless of her age," one said. He was somewhat older than Hanif, around Ardeth's own age. Another veteran of Ahm Shere, a survivor who buried two of his brothers, killed by the first wave of Anubis Warriors. He was also from one of the oldest families of the Med-jai, almost as old as Ardeth's own.  
  
"Aywa. I was none too pleased with the chieftain's decision to marry an outsider, but that is not my decision," said another, "and the only things which keeps the chieftain from doing exactly what you suggest is the old woman's age, and he has no patience with those who attack women." He paused, then smirked as he added, "Besides. . .I saw her storm into Lady Altair's tent. And you know how Lady Altair is about such rudeness!"  
  
The laughter which exploded from all men gathered was enough to draw glances, and the warriors set immediately to work. Hanif smiled. Yes. He would find the men with whom he was practicing this morning. He would tell them of the conversation with Celia. And see how many of those had the courage to stand with him. There would only be one holdout, that he knew of. Sanure's own husband, Rami.  
  
He tried to speak once, only to be silenced with jeers from the other men. Hanif's own partner, Aaqil, was the loudest. He was also the oldest out of the group, as he was a contemporary of Andreas Bey. Aaqil jibed, "Ho, he wishes to speak! I can tell you this, my *brother,* I would rather see our chieftain marry the pale outsider than your bully bitch of a wife. Yes, I called your wife a bully, for that is what she is!"  
  
Rami started toward Aaqil, his dark eyes flashing with fury. He found any insult to his wife unacceptable, as he loved her dearly. Why, Hanif had no idea, but love could be just as blind as hatred. Aaqil continued in a taunting voice, "And now, the entire camp knows what my baby sister has known for years." Hanif flinched, but couldn't blame Aaqil for the dig. Not when his partner's younger sister Anissa miscarried her first child because of Sanure's hair-trigger temper years earlier.  
  
It was the first time in the history of the twelve tribes that such a thing occurred. Hanif was just a child, around the same age as Ardeth's niece when it happened. But he had vague memories of hearing his parents talk about it. It enraged the entire camp, and served to turn many against the spoiled only daughter of Tamar, wife of the Geban second. Indeed, there were many Med-jai who wished to see Sanure die for what she did.  
  
Hanif's mother feared such a thing. If Sanure could die for what she did, what would happen if the stress caused by an argument caused a woman to go into premature labor? At the time, his mother had a hard time believing that Sanure could have meant to harm Anissa or her unborn child. Perhaps she was very young herself at the time. He only knew that after Andreas was killed, his mother turned against both the mother and daughter whom so many hated. Why that was the catalyst, Hanif didn't know.  
  
Only her mother's position within the Twelve Tribes prevented Andreas from kicking the bitch out. Since he couldn't do that, he did the next best thing. He demanded, and received, the word of Sanure's step-father that Anissa's husband would have the chance to choose Sanure's husband for her. Yusuf, enraged over the loss of his daughter and nearly losing his wife because of Sanure's jealousy, chose a warrior younger than Sanure who was believed to be impotent.  
  
Even now, years after the birth of their first child, there were many who believed Sanure was unfaithful. Rami, for all his flaws, was a loving and protective husband. And regardless of his own temper, he did not deserve to be cuckolded by his wife. No one could prove it, of course, but the whispers remained. They probably always would. Hanif bit his lip once more. On second thought, he wouldn't visit the warriors first. Instead, he would visit Anissa. Yes. That was a good place to start.  
  
. . .  
  
Unfortunately for Hanif, he wasn't the first person to think about that. Acacia Bey made that decision after she and Anck-su-namun paid Sanure a little visit. It felt good, putting Sanure in her place, which should have been done years earlier. Now, Acacia sat in Anissa's tent. Eighteen years passed since the attack which caused Anissa's miscarriage, and while she moved on, the resentment and bitterness remained.  
  
Yes, Anissa did know about what happened the previous night, and she was pleased that it was the chieftain's (future) wife who finally put Sanure in her place, even if she was an outsider. Anissa hadn't met Celia yet, but she was looking forward to it. She sounded like someone whom Anissa would like. . .quiet on the outside, but with a steel interior which made anyone who tangled with her family regret it.  
  
Of course Anissa would like her. . .in many ways, Celia was like Anissa's sixteen year old daughter Ishtar, her greatest joy and greatest exasperation. Acacia looked forward to the meeting between Celia and Ishtar. In fact. . .that gave the Med-jai princess an idea. Acacia leaned forward and asked, "Anissa, what does your daughter say about my youngest brother? He is still unwed, you know." Anissa's answering smile told her what she needed to know, but Anissa went further than Acacia anticipated.  
  
"Well, I'm sure you realize that many young maidens were quite disappointed when Ardeth announced his decision to marry. Ishtar was no different, though he is twice her age. However, I have noticed her looking at young Anatol in the last few weeks. Do you believe your brother would be good to my girl?" Anissa asked. In many ways, Anissa reminded Acacia of her own mother. Altair's first priority was the happiness of her children. Politics would always come second.  
  
"Let us find out, shall we? Anissa, I wish you to join us. You and Ishtar, for tonight is the dance," Acacia replied. Anissa's eyes glittered at the mention of the dance. It was a dance of celebration, performed each time a Med-jai couple were married. It had one other function, as it was a dance to grant the new couple many children. After Anissa lost her daughter, the Bey women danced again outside Anissa's tent. They could not undo what was done. . .but they could appeal to the gods to give Anissa another child.  
  
"Do you believe, Acacia, that your sister-in-law would dance with us?" Anissa asked, raising a brow. Acacia felt a familiar stirring of excitement. She hadn't even thought of that, but yes! Why not! She smiled at the woman brilliantly, and saw her own excitement reflected in Anissa's eyes. The other woman whispered, "You *do* think so! But why? Why would she, how could she, when she knows not the dance?"  
  
"That is where you are incorrect, my friend," Acacia replied, grinning positively impishly, "that is incorrect, because she is the reincarnation of Lady Ardath, she who gave us this dance. And once we start dancing, she will remember." Anissa's eyes widened, and Acacia wondered briefly how it was that Anissa didn't know about Celia's past lives among the Med-jai, then she dismissed the question. It was not important.  
  
Anissa called, "Ishtar! Ishtar, my daughter, come!" Anissa's daughter entered her mother's portion of their tent, her long black hair hanging free. Anissa held out her hand to her daughter and said, "Our princess has come to ask us to dance for her brother and his queen tomorrow, my daughter. Would you like to dance for Ardeth and his Celia, my Ishtar? Would you like to dance at the side of Lady Ardath's reincarnation?"  
  
Ishtar looked at her in wonderment, whispering, "So it is true? What they say? That our chieftain weds the reincarnation of our mother?" Acacia noted that Ardath was called the mother of the Med-jai by a new generation, just as she and Aleta did. The young woman nodded, and Ishtar continued, her excitement growing, "Do you think she will remember? Do you think she will remember the dance she gave us?"  
  
"I believe she will. Ishtar. . .yesterday, my sister-in-law stood up to Sanure. She not only stood up to her, but she had Sanure on her knees, with Celia's dagger at her throat. Eighteen years ago, Sanure caused your mother to miscarry your older sister when she ran her horse directly at your mother because Sanure wished to marry your father," Acacia replied.  
  
This was ancient history, of course, taking place long before Ishtar was even born. But it was necessary to remind the girl, for it led into what came next. Acacia continued, "My sister-in-law faces a people who consider her less because she is not Med-jai. I wish all to know that there are Med-jai who will stand with my brother and his wife." As it turned out, it was unnecessary to remind Ishtar of what occurred the day before.  
  
"I was there, my princess. I was there, when that woman tried to attack our chieftain's chosen. I was there when your lady mother warned all within this tribe that she supported her son's choice. I would be honored to dance for the woman who avenged my sister," Ishtar hissed. She gave a malevolent little smile, adding, "And I will get my friends to dance for our chieftain and our new queen as well."  
  
Acacia could ask for no more. According to tradition was, the more people who danced for the couple, the more children they would have. It didn't always work. . . sometimes there were many dancers, but few children. But never, in all the time Med-jai women danced for their newlyweds, was a child not born of that union. Acacia didn't know what kind of powerful magic was in that dance, but she knew it worked.  
  
"Ishtar, my love," Anissa suggested with an equally evil smile, "why don't you invite Vashti to dance as well? I should think she would welcome a chance for redemption." Vashti was the child who spat on Celia's boots during the tour, the child whom Anck-su-namun dumped a tent on. And Acacia watched in amazement as Ishtar's smile grew all the more evil. She hadn't thought that was possible.  
  
"Oh, that would be excellent, Mother! She has been pouting ever since the concubine's ghost dropped the tent on her head. . .and ever since her mother forced her to apologize to Ardeth and his lady. I'll go at once and ask them all. Thank you, princess!" Ishtar exclaimed. She bounced out after giving her mother a kiss, and Acacia watched her in amazement. She looked back at Anissa, who just laughed.  
  
"We cannot accept the blind to accept your sister-in-law, my princess. But we can show the blind that we accept our new queen. Tell me, Acacia, does this young American woman take good care of your brother? Does she make sure he eats?" Anissa asked. Acacia nodded, remembering how her mother helped Celia to make a tray for Ardeth when he was meeting with his Commanders.  
  
"She does. In fact, she stands up to O'Connell on a regular basis. I don't believe she will intervene where Hamunaptra is concerned, but Rick O'Connell is another story entirely," Acacia replied. She paused, thinking about her mother's words once more, then continued, "And. . .He Who Shall Not Be Named. Imhotep. If he is to ever become human once more, then I think Celia will have a hand in it."  
  
Anissa smiled humorlessly, replying, "Well, if she can turn the Creature back into a human being, then she definitely deserves our chieftain. . .you know, I'm sure, that even those of us who are happily married care for your brother. We care a great deal for him, and we always will." Acacia inclined her head in agreement, and Anissa continued, "He is very special. He always has been, even as a little boy trailing behind Andreas."  
  
Acacia flinched at this reminder of her brother, dead for so many years. However, Anissa wasn't finished. Like Celia, she didn't say much, but when she did speak, it was best to listen to what she was thinking. Anissa observed, "Ardeth deserves a wife who is equally special. Although, to be honest, I doubt if even this reincarnation of Lady Ardath is special enough to make the Creature human once more."  
  
"There was a time when I thought the same," Acacia admitted, "just as I thought I could never consider Anck-su-namun to be an ally. But things have changed lately, and now. . .now I believe anything is possible, my friend. In Hamunaptra, Celia broke the hom-dai as part of a bargain. She would break the hom-dai, if the Creature helped to save my brother. She kept that bargain. . .with her own blood. Anything is possible."  
  
"Perhaps. We shall see. And tonight, I shall dance with you. May your brother and his Celia have many healthy, happy, strong children, Acacia. And may your sister-in-law never know the pain of losing a child," Anissa replied, her voice cracking. Acacia inclined her head, and quietly took her leave of the woman. There were days when Anissa still mourned her lost child. It was accepted. That pain would never go away. And when it was strongest. . .Anissa was best if no one outside her family saw her tears.  
  
Once outside the tent, Acacia wiped her own tears away. She knew she still had a lot of work to do before the dance tonight. She had to make sure all the robes and dresses were finished. She had to help Aleta set the perimeter for the dance. But first, she would find her children and hug them until they protested. It was always the same after speaking with Anissa. She always needed to be with her children after being with Anissa. 


	7. Bachelor party, Medjai Style!

Part Six  
  
The day passed fairly quickly. Celia left Jonathan's tent after swearing to keep his secret. She checked to make sure the coast was clear, then she made her way toward the main part of the camp, where she encountered her fiance. Tonight, at the dance everyone was talking about, she would tell Ardeth about her visit to Jonathan. She did not believe he would find it a problem, since Jonathan was practically her brother, but if someone saw her, and wanted to make an issue out of it, then it was better if Ardeth was prepared with knowledge beforehand.  
  
She spoke with Hanif on her way to Evy's tent, then she and Evy went to Altair's tent to work on the clothes together. The two Western women were silent for the first few hours, while they worked. . .at least until the conversation came to that most fascinating of subjects: the wedding night. That reminded Celia, and she asked, looking up from her sewing, "I meant to ask you, since it's just us girls. How do I undo the sash which holds Ardeth's robes in place?"  
  
The reaction wasn't the one she anticipated. Aleta and Acacia, who just returned from parts unknown, looked at each other. . .and then giggled. Yes. . .the sisters actually giggled. Not laughed, not chuckled, but giggled. Mystified, Celia looked at Evy, who looked as confused as Celia felt. Altair looked at her daughters reprovingly, before telling Celia, "Forgive these foolish girls, my daughter. It is simply something with which you need not concern yourself."  
  
Ooh-kay. Whatever *that* mean. Seeing her confusion, Altair continued, "You see, dear girl, when a chieftain. . .or a young man in line to become chieftain. . .takes a bride, there is a very special custom after the ceremony. In this particular ritual, the young chieftain removes his sash and his robes, leaving him clad only in his trousers. He lights candles within the tent for his bride, and then waits for her in a kneeling position."  
  
Celia felt her face burn with embarrassment, but they weren't finished. Acacia, who now had control of her giggles, explained, "When his bride enters the tent, her escort remains outside to fasten the tent flap. The chieftain tells his new bride, 'just as I serve my people, so too, do I serve you. Do with me as you will, my mistress. I am yours, and you are mine.' Personally, I think that is why Ardeth waited so long to take a bride!"  
  
Aleta whacked her sister in the back of her head, scolding, "Sister! That is most unkind!" She stopped, thought about it, then added ruefully, "On the other hand, I cannot say that Ardeth is not proud. He is very proud, and for him to be willing to humble himself in such a way. . .yes, I do believe he loves you." Again, Celia blushed, and Aleta changed the subject, saying, "And tonight, we dance to your fertility, my sister."  
  
"And to celebrate my brother's long-overdue marriage, I have enlisted more dancers. Anissa and her daughter Ishtar will dance with us, and Ishtar will speak to her friends," Acacia put in. She paused, her eyes becoming almost sly, and she added, "Anissa gladly agreed to dance for you, Celia, and asked that you dance with us. It is hardly often that someone will stand up to Sanure, and for that, Anissa is grateful."  
  
Celia nodded, though she had no clue what any of that meant. And Rick O'Connell claimed that Ardeth was hard to follow at times! But something else Acacia said caught her attention, and Celia asked curiously, "You said that Anissa's daughter was named 'Ishtar,' correct?" Acacia nodded, and Celia continued, "But that's. . . Persian? Or something along those lines, it's not an Egyptian name."  
  
"No, but nor is 'Acacia,' 'Aleta,' 'Ardeth' or 'Anatol,' my daughter," Altair pointed out. Well, Celia could hardly argue with that, and her mother-in-law continued, "The Med-jai have come into contact with many, many people through the centuries. Persians, Greeks, Romans, Mesopotamians. Just as Islam has touched the Med-jai, so too have names from other cultures. 'Ishtar' is but one example."  
  
"Oh. Okay. I see," Celia replied. And she did. Sort of. She looked at her best friend, asking, "What about you, Evy? Do you think you'll be up to dancing?" Evy looked down at her middle, a nice little bump, then shook her head. Celia grinned impishly, and Evy scowled at her in mock indignation. Celia continued, "Well, maybe you're right. Can I sit out the first few minutes, Acacia, until I see what you're doing?"  
  
"Of course, my sister. Join us whenever you're ready. And Evelyn O'Connell can do other things to ensure your fertility when you join with my brother," Acacia replied. Aleta added something in Arabic, laughing, and Evy turned bright red with embarrassment. The other women in the tent laughed as well, including Altair. Which truly surprised Celia, given the way Evy was blushing at the moment.  
  
Celia, whose own Arabic was quite lacking, decided she *really* didn't want to know what her sister-in-law just said. Evy said somewhat tartly, "As our shared brother has been known to say on occasion, I think NOT!" The entire tent erupted into laughter at that, even Celia, who had no idea what was suggested. One thing was sure, though. This would be a *very* interesting night! Evy added, trying desperately to regain her composure, "Anyone up for storytelling?"  
  
"What sorts of stories would you mean, sister?" Acacia asked, shifting her weight ever so slightly. Celia looked over at the raven- haired woman, who continued, "I mean, I have many, many stories I can tell Celia about our dear brother. Many of which, I know she has never heard." Evy grinned and nodded. Celia glared at her best friend, and Acacia added hopefully, "And you have stories as well, Evelyn?"  
  
"Of course I do, that's why I asked!" Evy answered sweetly, and the tent erupted in laughter once more. She grinned, adding, "Now, my first story takes place on the dirigible, while we were tracking down Imhotep." Celia raised her eyebrows, sensing this was quite an interesting story in and of itself. The dirigible, she knew, belonged to Izzy, the man who helped them to rescue Miranda. And he was quite the character, so this would be an interesting story!  
  
. . .  
  
It took Evy thirty minutes to quit blushing after Aleta's suggestion was made, even as she told her stories. However, she thought more about what was said. She heard of the custom among the Med-jai women, and one of them was kind enough to explain it to her. At first, it sounded a bit. . .well, it made Evy a bit uncomfortable. She simply wasn't used to being that close to a member of her own gender.  
  
The old woman told her, "If you wish your friend to be fertile, you can offer yourself as an escort to her husband's tent, to the tent of our chieftain. Once you reach the tent, take her in your arms, your swollen belly pressing into hers, so she can feel the movement of your child, and whisper, 'may Taueret bless you.' This may be said in Arabic, in Egyptian, or in English. It matters not. The words are irrelevant, for it is the desire behind the words which matter."  
  
Evy thought about the actual practice all the time they were sewing, and through dinner, even when the dance started. What was so strange about what they were suggesting? She leads her best friend to her new husband's tent, hugs her, wishes her many pregnancies and many children. What was so odd about that? Perhaps the way it was worded, which was so explicit, so graphic. But the sentiment made sense.  
  
As the dancers filed into the circle, Evy observed Celia leaning over to speak to Ardeth. He looked at her in silence as she spoke, then he smiled, cupping her face in his hand, and kissed her. Evy looked away discreetly, feeling like a voyeur. Now she knew how Alex, Jonathan, and Ardeth felt every time they caught her and Rick kissing! It was a distinctly uncomfortable feeling. But she was still glad to see Ardeth happy.  
  
She turned her attention back to the dancers, her breath catching in her throat as their feet pounded in the sand, arms waving above their heads, and their bodies undulating in time to the primeval rhythm. The strange thing was, Evy couldn't locate the source of the music. As she looked around in confusion, the dancers broke rank, and Acacia leaped out in front. Evy glanced over at her friend, to find Celia staring at the dancers with a rapt expression.  
  
The Englishwoman caught her breath once more at her friend's dazed face. She looked as though she was in a trance. As though. . .as though she was remembering something. Acacia strode out and held out her hand to Celia, pulling the American woman to her feet. Celia was drawn into the center, the dancers continuing their ritual, and began swaying in time to the music. Her eyes closed, her feet beat out a rhythm counter to the one provided by the unseen musicians. But at the same time, it seemed to match. And instead of lifting her arms to the sky, Celia wrapped them around her waist, then drew them up to cross over her chest as she sank slowly to her knees.  
  
The circle expanded out around her, each Med-jai woman dancing and leaping as Celia writhed in the center, her dark hair swaying about her shoulders. But what really made Evy's blood run cold was the way Celia's face was directed toward Ardeth. As if she was dancing for *him.* And with that thought, Evy found herself back in ancient Egypt, found herself once more the princess Nefertiri.  
  
**Seti the First loved entertainment. Whether it was watching half- naked women fight or hearing about his son's exploits in battle, it mattered little. On this particular night, he clapped his hands and called, "I would see a dance!" At this time, he just chose Anck-su-namun as his new mistress, just as Rameses chose Ardath as his own concubine. The pharaoh's eyes lit on the young girl, and he said with a smile, "Ardath! Your people, the Israelites, they dance, do they not? Show us then! Show us one of their dances!"  
  
Ardath looked shyly at Rameses, who nodded encouragingly, then made her way out to the floor. She stamped her foot three times, then began to dance. However, Nefertiri never saw any of the Israelite slaves dance like this. It was a purely sensual dance, one that made her brother's eyes darken with desire. That was the point, for Ardath was dancing solely for him. Nefertiri could see it in her eyes, in the way she danced. In the way Ardath never took her eyes off Rameses. She was seducing him without even touching him, and Rameses was falling even further under her spell.  
  
At last, Ardath slumped to the ground, her forehead almost touching the cold marble floor. Seti stared at his son's concubine in shock and said, "My dear girl. I have never seen such a dance from the Israelites! Rise, child, arise!" Ardath pushed herself to her feet, looking sweaty and exhausted. Anck-su-namun bolted from Seti's side and raced out to her friend, putting a bracing arm around Ardath's waist.  
  
"That is because, my pharaoh, it is not of the Israelites. I. . .have vague memories. From before. When I was a small child. That dance. . ." Ardath paused, grimacing as she pressed her hand to her chest. Anck- su-namun tightened her arms about her waist protectively, her expression showing anxiety, then Ardath continued, "That dance comes from the land where I was born. It was a dance of fertility. . .fertility for the crops, fertility for the women. That is the only dance I remember."  
  
"A dance of fertility! You little foreign slut!" Khaldun roared and bolted to his feet. Anck-su-namun had no time to react as the prince backhanded Ardath hard across her face. The blow sent both girls sprawling, Anck-su-namun rolling protectively over her friend. Khaldun was known for his brutality, and Nefertiri feared her cousin would beat Ardath in front of everyone. He would find it necessary to go through Anck-su- namun, though, if he wished to hurt Ardath. Fortunately, though Nefertiri liked neither girl, it never happened. At the same time Khaldun left his seat, Rameses left his own.  
  
Before Khaldun could strike out at either girl a second time, Rameses caught his cousin's wrist, hissing, "Have a care, cousin. That is my woman you just struck, and I'll not allow one such as yourself to harm her. Concubine she may be, but my Ardath is as good as any royal whore who has parted her legs for you!" There was a gasp among those gathered, but before Khaldun could react, Seti clapped his hands.  
  
Within moments, the Med-jai surrounded the prince, who was glowering at Rameses. However, Nefertiri's brother turned his back on their cousin, and gently helped both girls to their feet. He kept a protective arm around his unsteady concubine, asking Anck-su-namun with a glance if she was hurt. Shakir Bey, then a boy, placed his sword alongside Khaldun's throat and asked with a low growl, "Shall I cut his throat, my lord?"  
  
"No, young Med-jai. However, I would ask that you escort my nephew to the city's limits. He is to be banished for a period of no less than three months. I asked the child to dance for me, Khaldun, not for you. It is not for you to question the dance she chooses. Should you return before those three months are up, I will allow Shakir Bey to slit your throat. Go!" Seti ordered. The Med-jai hustled the seething prince from the room, and Seti turned his attention to his son and Ardath.  
  
"And you, my son. I know you wish to protect what is yours. . .but be more circumspect in the future, if you please. Child, you danced well for me. One day, I would like to see this dance performed again, but only after you are healed. Rameses, take your concubine back to her chambers. Imhotep, go with them, my high priest. Make sure that young fool did not damage her too greatly," Seti replied.**  
  
Evy came back to herself with a gasp. She blinked. . .yes, she was back in twentieth century Egypt. The night was eerily silent, and Evy looked to the center of the circle. Celia was on her knees, her shoulders bowed. The only sound Evy heard was her friend's harsh breathing. Then the whispers came, "She knows the dance!" *Of course she does, idiots,* Evy thought scathingly, *she brought that dance to Egypt three thousand years ago, when she was Lady Ardath!*  
  
There were three sharp claps, and the other dancers sank to the ground, mirroring Celia's posture. Ardeth rose to his feet and walked slowly to the center of the circle. He knelt beside his fiancee, putting his arm around her shoulders. Something was whispered between them, and Celia nodded. Ardeth helped her to her feet, then looked at the people surrounding the circle and said, "I told you weeks ago that my chosen is the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. Now you see the truth."  
  
At his words, Acacia rose to her feet, drawing up the other dancers as well. The young woman chanted something which Evy didn't recognize, and the other dancers took up the chant. The Med-jai had their own language, even in ancient times. It was how they communicated when they were among people they did not know, and did not trust. Celia straightened up, though Evy could see the pain in her eyes.  
  
She whispered something to Ardeth, who motioned Acacia over. The Med- jai woman put her arm around Celia's waist, in an eerie repeat of Anck-su- namun's own actions three thousand years earlier, then the other dancers surrounded her. Evy was immensely grateful that Miranda was already in bed, being watched over by Jonathan. The little girl would have had a very difficult time seeing her mother so exhausted.  
  
Ardeth told his people in Arabic that the dance was concluded, and it was an obvious dismissal. Acacia and the dancers led Celia to her own tent, while Altair peeled off to retrieve Miranda. Ardeth came over to Rick and Evy, both men helping her to her feet, and said, "You recognized the dance, did you not, Evelyn?" The Englishwoman nodded, touching his shoulder gently, and he sighed, "As did I. It awakened memories."  
  
He took a deep breath, then asked, "I would ask you to stay with my Celia tonight, Evelyn. Would you do this for me?" Evy just looked at him. He should have known better, should have known that he didn't have to ask. But she smiled, because he did ask, and reached up on her toes to lightly kiss his cheek. He smiled back at her, his dark eyes reflecting an all too familiar weariness as he murmured, "Shukran."  
  
She answered him in the same language, then set out toward Celia's tent. As she did, she noticed a peculiar expression on her darling husband's face. He was up to something. Evy was quite sure he was up to something. The question was, what?  
  
. . .  
  
The arrangements for the impromptu Med-jai bachelor party were made. Rick knew from stray comments that Jonathan would be free once Altair returned Miranda to her mother. However, it became quite clear that Rick would need more help than just Jonathan. To that end, he tracked down Garai, Hanif and Nicodemus. He had a plan how to get their cooperation. He didn't need it, since all three thought it was a wonderful idea. They didn't trust Rick, but one problem at a time.  
  
Ardeth's wedding wouldn't take place until late afternoon. The worst of the heat would be over, which also gave Ardeth time to lose his hangover. If he had one. Rick smiled grimly. If he didn't, then Rick would hurt him, especially since the American's own hangovers were usually nothing short of catastrophic. Yeah. He would definitely have to hurt Ardeth if the Med-jai, who was never drunk before, didn't have an equally bad hangover. In fact, Rick was relatively sure that Jonathan would help him with that, considering how bad Jonathan's own hangovers were.  
  
Unwittingly, Ardeth played into Rick's hands when he asked Evy to stay with Celia. And wasn't that dance weird? From Evy's expression, Rick could tell she was having another flashback to good old ancient Egypt again. Sure, Evy's flashbacks began months earlier, with the beginning of the Egyptian New Year, but it seemed as if the reunion between Nefertiri and Ardath brought forth more memories.  
  
Rick was sure there was a very good explanation for that, but at the moment, he wasn't interested in it. He just knew that every time he turned around, Evy was having another flashback, and Rick's own memories were slow in returning. They were returning just enough to make him aware that once again, Ardeth was right. There were times when Rick really hated him for that.  
  
Of course, when Ardeth didn't know something, it was usually a doozy. Like when he hadn't known that the bracelet would kill Alex at the end of those seven days. Rick would never forget the look of shock on his friend's face when Evy asked him about it, only days after they all met up in Cairo again. He reacted almost the same as when Rick told him about explaining to Celia about. . .well. . .that.  
  
There was no betrayal in his eyes at that time, only shock and a quiet rage that began to develop once he realized that something was kept from him. Ardeth Bey did *not* like it when he was lacking information that he might need. Didn't like that one bit, oh no, not at all. Whatever problems Rick might have had with his friend in the past, keeping information from them was never among them. In fact, he was a little too generous with details, as far as Rick was concerned.  
  
It occurred to him as he drew Ardeth into the tent that Ardeth might be even more generous with details, with his tongue loosened by alcohol. They just didn't know what he might do. Hell, to the best of Rick's knowledge, Ardeth never even got drunk. . .they had no way of knowing how the alcohol would affect him. Rick wondered uneasily if this was such a good idea. For all he knew, Ardeth could be a nasty drunk. Not that Rick thought that was particularly likely. . .  
  
But he was committed now, and there was no backing out. Hanif already had a bottle out (Rick sure hoped he didn't have patrol the following day), and Jonathan was sorting through the bottles. Garai said with a broad smile, "Welcome, my chieftain, to our celebration of your last night as an unmarried man!" Rick glanced at Ardeth from the corner of his eye, and almost laughed aloud at the expression on his friend's face. Ardeth Bey at a loss. . .the mind boggled.  
  
"Yes, Chieftain. . .we celebrate you and our new queen. Who is already showing she belongs among the Med-jai," Nicodemus put in, handing a bottle to Rick. He paused, then asked innocently, "Chieftain, have you ever had such a night before? When your only responsibility is to enjoy yourself?" Rick blinked at the boy. Huh? Where did that come from? He wasn't the only one. Ardeth was staring in absolute shock. He was beginning to enjoy seeing that look on Ardeth's face, if he was really honest about it.  
  
"Of course not, you little idiot," Hanif retorted (conveniently ignoring that he was only a few years older than Nicodemus), "our chieftain has never been married before!" Nicodemus glared at him, a growl beginning deep in his throat. Garai rolled his eyes and put his hand on the younger man's shoulder, restraining him from doing anything stupid. Like attacking Hanif in full view of their chieftain.  
  
"That is enough, both of you. This is a celebration, what O'Connell calls a bachelor party. Ardeth, sit. The Commanders will deal with any problems. For tonight, you are simply another young warrior who has at last found the missing piece of his heart," Garai said. Rick was stunned when Ardeth simply sat down, and the taller man looked at the old man. Garai shrugged and said, "I have known Ardeth his entire life. He is our chieftain, but I am still a warrior with more years."  
  
"What. . .might I ask. . .is a bachelor party?" Ardeth finally managed to ask. The poor man looked utterly shocked by what was going on. Rick just patted his shoulder, grinning impishly, and Ardeth added, "O'Connell? This was your idea?" The American nodded, and Ardeth asked next, sounding more than a little wary, "Will I find it necessary to strike you again?"  
  
"Why did you strike O'Connell, Ardeth? I am sure he deserved it, but why?" Hanif asked. Rick looked over at the young man, who already downed half a bottle of whatever he was drinking. The American didn't ask. He didn't want to know. While he was reasonably certain that Ardeth never got drunk, he wasn't as sure about the other Med-jai. Ardeth took his responsibilities seriously. . .and he had a lot more responsibility than a young warrior like Hanif or Nicodemus.  
  
"I struck O'Connell because. . .would you like to explain this, O'Connell, since you derive such amusement from it?" Ardeth asked, accepting the bottle which Garai handed him. Rick winced a bit at the question. Okay. Looked like Ardeth still didn't totally forgive him for that. Then again, Ardeth had a habit of asking questions, which told Rick when he had a chance to stop and think, just how badly he hurt Ardeth.  
  
'Glad to see me now?' Ardeth asked him as they raced away from the museum, Imhotep's Mummy Warriors in hot pursuit. At the time, Rick gave the question little thought, but later. . .later, after Ardeth collapsed at his feet, the American found himself regretting the brutal reception he gave his friend. Remembering that guilt, and the heightened remorse he felt after Evy let him have it both barrels, Rick replied now, "I opened my mouth, when I should have kept it shut."  
  
Ardeth took a swig from the bottle, barely even realizing what he was doing. Hanif, who just started his second bottle, retorted, "Well, O'Connell, that is something we expect from you! You open your mouth, and think nothing of what you say next." Garai said something which sounded chastising, and Hanif retorted, "I speak the truth, Garai! I do not know why O'Connell is still here, when there is nothing he needs from Ardeth. Our chieftain calls you his brother, O'Connell, but rest assured. . .the rest of us have no such regard for you."  
  
Oh crap, here they went again. Then again, Rick knew the Med-jai warriors still resented him. Before he could speak, however, Jonathan said, "Enough, my boy, enough. This is a happy occasion. Your chieftain is getting married to a woman who understands about secrets. She'll keep yours, Ardeth. I know she will, because she's kept mine." Now what in the hell did that mean?  
  
Ardeth took another long swig of his drink, then replied, "So she has told me. She told me that she cannot tell me what you and she talked about this morning. . .only that she did speak with you alone. Jonathan, would you be kind enough to retrieve another bottle for me? This one is almost empty, and I find I like what I feel right now. Although, O'Connell and Hanif are in danger of giving me a headache."  
  
It was Garai, however, who passed another bottle to his chieftain. Ardeth accepted it with one hand, while he finished the current bottle, then passed the empty bottle to Rick with his free hand. Rick wondered if Ardeth would be as entertaining as Evy when *she* was drunk, and decided he would probably find out very soon, given Ardeth's inexperience with alcohol. Hanif said contritely, "I apologize, my chieftain, I will say no more."  
  
"Shukran, Hanif, you have my gratitude for that. Now, O'Connell, what exactly is the purpose of a bachelor party?" Ardeth asked. The question surprised Rick. He knew that his friend was educated about Western ways, primarily from his uncle Terrence, the late curator at the Cairo Museum. Maybe Dr Terrence Bey never heard references to a bachelor party, or perhaps he simply didn't think it was appropriate for him to tell his nephew about it.  
  
"Well, buddy, it's not that complicated. The point is just to have fun, and go a little wild. You'll be a married man tomorrow, and it's time you. . ." Rick began. He was on the point of saying, 'let your hair down,' but the alcohol was already starting to take effect. If Ardeth was of a mind to take him literally. . .well, Rick really didn't want to go there. Instead, the American said, "We're gonna get you as drunk as possible, since you have such a hard time lightening up."  
  
"I do *not* have a different. . .difficult. . .time! I simply. . .what was I saying?" Ardeth asked in confusion. Rick almost buried his face in his hands, laughing, but he managed to keep his composure. It was a good thing he did. Ardeth was unpredictable without alcohol in his system. Besides, Ardeth continued after a moment, his eyes brightening, "Oh, I remember now! I simply have no time for your. . .devise. . .diverge. . .your idea of fun, O'Connell."  
  
"He is our chieftain," intoned Nicodemus. If Ardeth was two sheets to the wind, then Nicodemus was five sheets. The kid was wobbling in place. That wasn't so bad, but he was sitting down. On the other hand, at least he *was* sitting down. The young warrior continued, "Chieftain of all Twelve Tribes, servant to our people. He cannot afford your diversions, O'Connell, or many would die. But thank Allah, Geb, Horus and Isis that Ardeth leads us, not his brother Andreas."  
  
"Do not speak ill of the dead, boy," Garai chided. Rick glanced at Ardeth, and found the world shifting under his feet. There were tears in his friend's eyes. Stoic Ardeth, who only collapsed after Alex was taken, had tears in his eyes. Rick didn't know what to do, but the old warrior did. Garai reached over and put his hand on Ardeth's back, saying, "You were just a child at the time, Nicodemus, hardly more than a baby."  
  
"As if that matters! I heard about the stupidity Andreas demonstrated after his sister was raped! My Commander told me when we heard that Lock-nah returned. He told me that Andreas took a nine year old boy to watch him deal with Lock-nah and his men. And instead, that child saw his eldest brother cut down, then had to flee for his life! Andreas was a fool!" Nicodemus fired back, the alcohol making him brave or stupid.  
  
"He was my brother," came the hoarse response from Ardeth. Nicodemus looked back at his chieftain, an apology already on his lips, but Ardeth continued numbly, "He was my brother. I loved him. He loved us. He was not thinking that day. . .he was seeing only our sister. I was thinking. I should have tried harder to convince him, to leave Anatol at home. I could not persuade him. It was my fault."  
  
His voice broke, and Rick squeezed his shoulder, not knowing what to say. Ardeth continued, "You remind me of him, O'Connell. He was. . .he was my big brother. He was loud and brazen and stubborn. More stubborn than I, and I know myself to be stubborn. We all are. But. . . but he loved with everything he was, everything he would ever be. And if you hurt someone he loved, he would hunt you down and destroy you."  
  
Now Rick really didn't know what to say. He swallowed hard, because from what he was told about Andreas Bey, even Rick could see the similarities between himself and the late chieftain. The chieftain whose irresponsibility left his seventeen year old brother with such a heavy burden wasn't so different from Rick at all. It made the American very glad that he faced Ardeth in Hamunaptra, instead of his older brother.  
  
Garai said gently, sounding more like a surrogate father than a fellow warrior, "It was not your fault, lad. You tried to talk reason into him. No one could, Ardeth. Not you. Not me. Not even Altair. And so you did the next best thing, you went along to make sure nothing else went wrong. You are not responsible for your brother's failings. You are not responsible for what came next, either."  
  
Ardeth raised his head, his dark eyes glittering with an old pain as he asked hoarsely, "Am I not? I was captured through my own stupidity, Garai. I could not let Anatol suffer for the stupidity of both of his brothers." Well, that was progress. . .at least he was acknowledging that Andreas was stupid. But what exactly happened that day? Ardeth was captured? He looked at Garai, who looked sad. No. Not just sad. Also frustrated. As if this was a conversation they had in the past.  
  
"For the love of the gods, Ardeth! You were barely more than a child yourself! You had only been a warrior for a year, and it was a clever ambush! And what were you to do? Leave your brother there for the sands? You did the best you could. You were one seventeen year old boy, against twenty men. . .what could you have done differently?" Garai asked. Rick looked between the two men, totally lost.  
  
"He did what his brother failed to do. He protected his little brother, and was tortured as a result," Hanif spat. The hostility in the tent toward Andreas Bey was starting to open doors in Rick's mind. Ardeth said that Rick reminded him of his older brother. He wondered if anyone else saw what Ardeth did. If that was true. . . However, that train of thought derailed when Hanif added, "Andreas was a coward, Ardeth. He would have never made that stand at Ahm Shere as you did."  
  
Rick wondered where the young warrior got that. Ardeth just finished saying that his elder brother would annihilate anyone who harmed his family. That wasn't the mark of a coward. Or. . .or maybe Andreas would have decided that the O'Connell family deserved no backup, for all the times their stupidity and arrogance unleashed an evil upon the world. That was something he heard more than one Med-jai say.  
  
The answer from another member of the group was always the same. 'We do this not for the O'Connells, but for the rest of the world. We do it for Ardeth, who would have faced the Army of Anubis alone, and for the people who have sense enough to leave such things alone.' There was always a long silence as the rest of the group tracked this information through their brains and tried to come up with a suitable response.  
  
And the response which always came was, 'for once. . .just for once, Ardeth should leave the O'Connells to rot in their own blood. They are always in such a hurry to shed Med-jai blood for their fights, but when our chieftain needs them, they are nowhere to be found. Ardeth was shot while protecting the O'Connell woman, and the thanks he got was O'Connell shoving him into a wall. I want it understood, my brothers, that I will never fight for the O'Connells. Only for Ardeth, only for our people.'  
  
There was almost always a snort of laughter, then the warrior who provided the answer in the first place always answered, 'that is the only reason any of us fight, my brother. None of us care anything about the O'Connells, but none of us wish to see Ardeth fight alone to the death. We must not become like Rick O'Connell, though his tattoo marks him as one of us.'  
  
That brought laughter, and someone else saying, 'Hah! O'Connell will never be one of us! He is incapable of caring about people, as Ardeth does.' The party always moved on after that, and Rick always found himself stunned by the level of contempt which the rank and file of the Med-jai held for him. He knew that Ardeth, and his Commanders, were among the few who had any use for him. He knew that Altair Bey regarded him with distrust.  
  
But there was a rawness to the anger of these ordinary warriors, and Rick always watched his back when he was alone in the Med-jai village. And the more he heard such words, the more wary he grew. Especially when he heard them from young warriors, because only ten years earlier, Rick was the same age as these boys. He knew how proud young men such as these could be, and he knew it was only a matter of time before something was attempted.  
  
It would begin, as it always did. . .with the young warriors vocalizing their disgust with the Westerners whom they considered to be lower than camel dung, who had no trouble at all with risking Med-jai blood to clean up the messes they made. And eventually, eventually, the boys would push each other into doing something stupid. Challenging Rick to a fight, or something else. He didn't think any of them would try to stab him in the back, but it was always a possibility.  
  
Hanif, who was really the least of Rick's worries, but definitely one of his biggest detractors, said again, "Andreas was a coward. He had not the courage to lead the Med-jai, so he threw himself upon his sword at his first opportunity." Now there was an interesting take on the subject. In Rick's opinion, the late chieftain suffered from a lack of judgment, rather than a lack of courage, and he knew enough men like Andreas Bey (and himself) to know the difference between the two flaws.  
  
"Hanif, for all his flaws, Andreas was no coward. He was reckless and self-centered, but not a coward. Ardeth's greatest flaw is that he fails to take care of himself. Now, there will be no more talk of Andreas Bey on this night. It will only upset our chieftain, and tomorrow is a day of great joy. Now, Nicodemus, I am told that you sing quite well. . .will you sing for us, for our chieftain's wedding?" Garai asked.  
  
Successfully diverted, the young man sang in a language which was oddly familiar to Rick. The other men, except for Jonathan, sang along, including Ardeth. And that was strange enough. Stranger still, when Rick looked again at his friend, he found tears streaming down Ardeth's face. Garai stopped singing briefly and whispered, "My chieftain has never been given an opportunity to mourn his brother, or even his father. Always, he takes care of his people. Never himself."  
  
Rick swallowed hard. Ardeth was singing through his tears, and the American gently wrapped his arm around Ardeth's shoulders. Jonathan watched, his eyes showing a peculiar sadness, and Rick didn't understand that, either. However, he decided it was best not to find out, and instead, he just sang along. He kept his arm around Ardeth, feeling his friend's body tremble with long-suppressed sobs.  
  
"I am so tired, O'Connell," Ardeth whispered, but Rick had a strange sense that he didn't even realize he said it. He tightened his grasp on his friend, gently rocking from side to side. Another bottle was pressed into Ardeth's hand, and for the first time, Rick truly understood what he did. He forgot that alcohol smashed all inhibitions. Self-control was a thing of memory, and tonight's festivities knocked a huge hole in the self- control Ardeth fostered over the years.  
  
Of course he was tired. For sixteen years. . .no. No, this began years before his brother's death. Ardeth never allowed himself to mourn his father's death, either. And he was only thirteen when Suleiman Bey died in battle. Twenty years of suppressed emotions were coming out. He was afraid that Ardeth would be a mean drunk, but it never even occurred to him that so many ancient hurts would be released. However, as Rick's eyes met Garai's, some of his regret started to ease.  
  
Garai knew this would happen. He knew that alcohol would decrease Ardeth's self-control, and he went along with it. Because he wanted. . .because tomorrow marked a new beginning for Ardeth, and it was time to release some of that grief and hurt. Rick understood now. Garai held his eyes a moment longer, then his eyes slid toward Ardeth. Rick's plans of getting him thoroughly drunk vanished in that moment.  
  
It was too late to do anything about the hangover he knew Ardeth would have. But it wasn't too late for him to do something else. Rick drew his friend's head to rest on his shoulder, whispering, "Then sleep, Ardeth. Nothing will happen to you as long as we're here. Just sleep." Ardeth fought it at first. Of course he would. Ardeth Bey was a warrior, first, last, and always. He fought sleep as fiercely as he fought Imhotep, as fiercely as he fought falling in love with Celia.  
  
But in the end, his body was exhausted, along with his spirit, and slowly, Rick felt the tension ease from his friend's body. When Ardeth was a dead weight against him, the American gently eased Ardeth down, to make him more comfortable. Nicodemus gently covered the sleeping chieftain with a blanket, while Rick and Garai both kept their hands on Ardeth's back and shoulder. Silence fell in the tent. Then Garai asked, "Shall I tell you stories of the little boy he was?" Rick looked at the warrior with an inquiring grin, and the old warrior said, "Pass around more bottles, Hanif. . .I have many stories to tell."  
  
. . .  
  
The rest of the night passed with much merriment. Strangely enough, the laughter did not awaken Ardeth. Poor man, must have been exhausted. That wasn't the surprise, at least, not to Jonathan. What did surprise him was Rick's extraordinary gentleness with their Med-jai friend. Especially after Ardeth fell asleep, Jonathan's brother-in-law kept his hand on Ardeth's shoulder. Not something Jonathan expected from Rick, especially not in regards to Ardeth. Perhaps Ardeth mentioning how much Rick reminded him of his older brother caused the change in Rick's attitude.  
  
Or maybe it was the alcohol. As the night wore on, the bottles circulated, and Jonathan had his fair share, but he built up a tolerance over the years. One by one, each men fell asleep. Jonathan remained awake. He told Celia the truth, and she was still his friend. He hadn't meant to tell her that Alex was his son by blood. It just slipped out. And he saw the conflict in her eyes. There was a part of her which wanted to chastise him for his irresponsibility, but instead, she told him that she would not judge him. That she *would* keep his secret. It was asking a lot, but he appreciated it.  
  
Ardeth was a lucky man. Celia wasn't a beautiful woman, in the way Evy was. She would never be beautiful in the conventional sense. But she was brave and kind, honorable and loyal. What more could any man ask? But yes, he rather thought that Ardeth *did* know how lucky he was. Just as Rick understood how lucky he was to have Evy. And Alex. And the coming baby, whom Evy swore was a little girl.  
  
Jonathan wasn't entirely sure when he fell asleep. . .but he did know he was awakened by a soft groan. The groan was followed by another noise, which was entirely too familiar to Jonathan. Someone was either vomiting or retching. Jonathan opened his eyes, mentally checking off everyone who was in the tent. Rick, Hanif, Garai, Nicodemus. . .where was Ardeth? Outside. It was Ardeth he was hearing.  
  
The other men were still asleep, and Jonathan carefully got to his feet. He picked up the blanket, especially when he realized it was still night. He found Ardeth behind the tent on his knees, doubled over. Jonathan cringed in sympathy. His arm was pressed to his stomach as another spasm wracked his body, and the Englishman walked over to his friend, carefully draping the blanket over the trembling shoulders.  
  
"Easy," Jonathan soothed as Ardeth moaned quietly in distress, "easy. Jjust about done there, old boy?" The raven head bobbed once, and Jonathan continued, "Alright then. We'll sit here another minute or so, while your legs stop shaking a little, then we'll go back into the tent so you can get some rest." Again, Ardeth nodded, and Jonathan dared to put his hand on his friend's back, rubbing his hand back and forth.  
  
"Allah have mercy on me for my stupidity. . .Horus and Isis, too," Ardeth muttered as he rolled away from the mess, his face ashen and sweaty. Jonathan discreetly kicked sand over the remains, both solid and liquid, then put a gentle arm around the Med-jai's waist. By the gods, he was shaking so badly. Ardeth whispered, "Forgive me, my friend, for disturbing your sleep. I hoped not to wake you or the others."  
  
"Think nothing of it, old boy," Jonathan said lightly, carefully guiding his friend to the tent. By some minor miracle, they navigated around the sleeping men, until they reached Ardeth's bedroll. Jonathan gently eased his friend down, feeling the tremors that racked Ardeth's body. Poor man, felt like death warmed over. Jonathan was familiar with the feeling. . .though long years had passed since the first time he got drunk.  
  
The Englishman covered his friend with the blanket. Ardeth was still a little drunk, Jonathan realized, as he was rambling in a strange mix of Arabic, ancient Egyptian, English, and a half dozen other languages. Jonathan caught maybe a third of what he was saying, until Ardeth went abruptly silent. For a long, terrifying moment, Jonathan was afraid that Ardeth would be sick again, until he realized that Ardeth was shaking too badly for him to speak.  
  
Jonathan lifted Ardeth up, blanket and all, easing behind the younger man, then pulled his friend against his chest. He held Ardeth to warm his friend. Ardeth asked sleepily, "Why did you do that, Jonathan?" The Englishman carefully arranged the blanket more firmly around his friend, hoping Ardeth would fall back asleep, or just forget he asked that. No such luck. Ardeth's breathing remained the same, and it forced Jonathan to think about why he took the actions he did.  
  
"Well, for one thing. . .because you're cold. Shivering. The blanket can only warm you up so much," Jonathan said with a sigh. There was a soft grunt of acknowledgment, and the Englishman continued, "And. . .well, because sometimes even a great and mighty chieftain of a great and mighty people needs to be held. Your wife to be isn't here, and nor is my. . .our. . . sister. But this is what I would do for her, or for Alex. It's only right that I do it for you."  
  
Ardeth's breathing started to slow and and even out, but he was still fighting sleep. Damn stubborn man. But it turned out the alcohol had complications that they never considered. Jonathan learned that when Ardeth's sleepy voice informed him, "Rameses knew that Nassor loved him. He could not love him, not the way he loved Ardath. He was afraid that he would destroy Nassor, just as he destroyed Ardath."  
  
Dear God. Rameses figured out the secret Nassor kept from him for decades. Jonathan said heavily, "Rameses was not responsible for the death of his Lady. But he could never accept that, and because he could not accept that, he shut himself off from love entirely. In all of its forms. He could no longer accept the love of his father or his sister. Nor could he accept the love of his son."  
  
"Aywa. He believed he did not deserve it. I am afraid I do not deserve it, either, Jonathan. I am afraid I will be a bad husband for Celia, a bad husband and a bad father," Ardeth confessed in a childlike voice. Jonathan swallowed hard, unsure of what to say to that. To give himself time to think, the Englishman just hugged his friend. And a moment later, it was unnecessary for him to say anything, because Ardeth added, "I miss my father, Jonathan. I miss my brother. Andreas gave Horus to me, did you know that?"  
  
'My best and most clever friend,' Ardeth said at Izzy's airfield, and now Jonathan learned that Horus was a final gift from a beloved older brother. Before Jonathan could answer, the young chieftain murmured, "Andreas gave Horus to me when I became a warrior, and received our sacred markings. And now Horus is gone. Just like Andreas. Just like my father." The grief in his voice was almost more than Jonathan could bear.  
  
So he latched onto the one thing that could make things right. It sounded so foolish, but it was the only thing Jonathan could think of. He replied, "But you have Celia and Miranda. You have Rick and Evy, you have me, you have Alex." Ardeth's eyes went wide with wonderment. It was as if he never thought about the O'Connells in such a way. But it was true, Ardeth was part of their family. Jonathan continued, "We can't bring your father or your brother back. Or Horus. But you have your mother, your sisters, your niece and nephew, your brother. And you always will have us."  
  
"Shukran, my friend. I am very tired, Jonathan. I will sleep now," Ardeth replied. He gave a little sigh and his eyes drifted shut. Jonathan didn't move at first. He didn't want to wake Ardeth. But as the moments passed, and Ardeth's body grew heavier, Jonathan gently lay his friend down properly. He stopped shivering as badly. That was good. He carefully arranged the blanket around Ardeth once more.  
  
"Then sleep, Ardeth, and have wonderful dreams, my friend. Dream of your wife," Jonathan whispered. He sat down beside Ardeth, resting his hand on his friend's shoulder, just as Rick did when Ardeth fell asleep. Jonathan knew that he would never return to his own dreams. So, instead, he would stay awake and keep watch over his friend. The following day, Ardeth would be married, and Jonathan intended to see to it that the wedding took place.  
  
. . .  
  
Ohhh. . .gods. What happened to him? Rick O'Connell peeled back one eyelid, groaning anew when the light struck his eyes. An annoyingly cheerful voice exclaimed, "Oh, good, you're awake. Up you get! We're helping Ardeth get ready for his wedding this evening, remember?" Rick glared at his brother-in-law, who was looking entirely too chipper for someone who got drunker than a skunk the night before. And what the hell did happen the previous night?  
  
Oh. That's right. Rick's bachelor party for Ardeth. Rick smiled faintly, thinking about the rare glimpse he had into his friend the night before. He thought about teasing Ardeth about falling asleep the way he had, against Rick, and Jonathan said in a voice utterly devoid of humor, "Oh, and Rick? If you say a word to Ardeth about last night, if you tease him in any way, I'll tell Evy that you told Celia about Ardeth's inexperience."  
  
That jolted Rick awake in a hurry. He stared at his brother-in-law in shock, wondering if Nassor hadn't decided to come back while Jonathan was asleep. But he found Evy's brother staring back at him with no small amount of determination. Also some apprehension, but the determination was stronger. Jonathan added grimly, "Today is Ardeth's wedding day, and I intend to make sure no one messes it up."  
  
Rick was still too hungover to bother being angry with Jonathan, so he just groaned and dropped his head back onto the pillow. After a moment, he muttered, "If I promise not to tease Ardeth, will you let me die in peace?" Jonathan laughed, pushing the tent flap back. Rick allowed himself a hiss of pain as the sunlight hit his painfully sensitive eyes. That was obviously a 'no.'  
  
"It's almost noon, old boy, and Hanif and Garai took Ardeth to be washed. It was quite amazing, actually, he was in better shape this morning than you were. Especially since it was his first time getting drunk. He woke up on his own about two hours ago, and he was quite the man about it. No whining or whimpering like you are," Jonathan replied. Rick raised his head from the pillow and glared at Jonathan for all he was worth.  
  
But Jonathan didn't look scared. Instead, he continued lightly, "Oh, by the way. Just so you know. Ardeth has asked you and me, along with Hanif and Garai, to stand with him at the wedding. So you have to get up now, Rick." The American looked at Jonathan in confusion, knowing that somewhere in that mess of words was something that he needed to know.  
  
Impatiently, Jonathan sighed, "Rick. Get your lazy arse out of bed. Ardeth needs us. Remember how you were when you and Evy got married?" Rick did indeed. To say that he was a nervous wreck was an understatement. Jonathan continued, "Ardeth is a hundred times worse. You know he actually asked this morning if I thought Celia would back out of the marriage? The very idea!" Jonathan actually sounded scandalized.  
  
Rick looked at his brother-in-law suspiciously, wondering when the hell Jonathan became so protective of Ardeth. He asked slowly, "Are you sure that you're not like Nassor?" Jonathan's blue eyes narrowed, and his entire body went rigid. Apparently, he had *no* problem understanding what Rick meant, and for the first time since meeting the Englishman, Rick O'Connell actually found himself unnerved.  
  
"I will consider that to be the alcohol. I do have Nassor's memories, yes. But I am not him. As much as I care for Ardeth, it is a different sort of affection than what you have in mind. He is my friend, Rick. The man who put your son above his own people, above his own life, remember? When I was a child, and annoyed that I had a little sister, I wished for a brother. Ardeth is the son my father wanted. The kind of son any man with sense would want!" Jonathan fired back.  
  
Rick started to say something, only to realize that he had nothing to say. Jonathan glared at him bitterly, then continued, "Now. Perhaps Ardeth doesn't have your idea of a sense of humor. God knows I thought for a long time that he had no sense of humor at all. And maybe he has this unnerving tendency to show up when all hell is breaking loose. But he has always been there for our family, Rick. He has always come through for us. He has asked us to stand with him, because his father and older brother are dead. I for one don't intend to let him down. Again."  
  
With that, Jonathan stormed out of the tent. Rick dropped back to his pallet with a groan. Things were looking shitty and it was only noon. He had to get cleaned up, then see about whatever Ardeth needed him to do. But before he went anywhere, he had to figure out what Jonathan meant about them letting Ardeth down. . .again. Sure, they raised Imhotep after Ardeth told them to leave Hamunaptra, and they took the Bracelet of Anubis, but better them than Meela and company, right?  
  
After a few moments, he finally pushed himself into a kneeling position, then got to his feet. He hated hangovers. And Ardeth's wasn't that bad? Rick would hurt him. It wasn't bad enough that Ardeth was almost always right, it wasn't bad enough that the man was too damn self- sacrificing for his own good (okay, that was redundant, but Rick didn't care about thinking coherently right now). Oh no. No, he had to get a minor hangover the first time he was drunk!  
  
He groaned again as he stumbled from the tent, belatedly remembering that he didn't know where the baths were. Then he saw Garai come out of a tent, and Rick stumbled in that general direction, cussing out whoever or whatever just tripped him up. Even if it was the damn sand. Still grumbling, Rick made his way over to the tent, and Garai said gravely, "I am glad to see you no worse for wear, O'Connell."  
  
"That's a matter of opinion," the American grumbled as Garai led him insidet. He couldn't make heads or tales out of what his brother-in-law said. Ardeth, who never got drunk before, had a lesser hangover than he did, and Rick's head felt like it would come off his shoulders. Then he got hit in the face with a blast of steam, and Rick swore ripely. This day would end badly, he knew it!  
  
A sleepy voice chastised him in Arabic, and Rick's attention was drawn in the direction of the voice. He found Ardeth sitting in a tub of water, his head resting against the rim. His hair was soaking wet, and as Rick came closer, he discovered that Ardeth's eyes were closed. An evil thought crossed his mind, and Rick approached. But just as he was getting ready to dunk Ardeth under the water, his friend's eyes opened and he said in English, "I would not advise that."  
  
Rick pouted, replying, "You spoil all my fun! Besides, I thought you were half-asleep. Were you trying to trick me?" Ardeth just gave him a sleepy, albeit mischievous, smile, and the American snorted, "Yeah. I should have known. What do you need me to do?" Ardeth straightened in the tub, and Rick winced at the accompanying pops and cracks as his friend's spine realigned itself.  
  
"Hanif is gathering my clothes, and Garai is standing guard. Jonathan is taking care of the women. . .not like that, O'Connell, so please stop glowering at me. I need you to take care of my weapons," Ardeth replied. Rick raised his eyebrows at that, and Ardeth explained patiently (reminding Rick of Evy explaining something to Alex), "My dagger and my sword are part of my ceremonial robes, O'Connell."  
  
Oh. That made sense. In a roundabout Med-jai sort of way. Rick asked, "Sooo, what do you need me to do? Clean them? Sharpen them?" Ardeth closed his eyes and allowed his head to slump back against the rim of the tub once more with a crack that made Rick's own head hurt. And yet, the Med-jai didn't make a single noise of pain. There were times when Rick really hated that guy. No question.  
  
"I need you to bring them to me, O'Connell. I will see to their cleaning and sharpening, once I am finished with my own. . .grooming," Ardeth replied. It didn't miss Rick's notice that his friend stumbled over that last word.  
  
It didn't escape Garai's notice, either, for the older man said, "Be easy, Ardeth, there is no reason for concern." Rick raised an eyebrow, and Garai added, gently teasing the younger warrior, "Although, some of the young maidens may swoon when they receive a reminder of what their chieftain looks like under the sand and dust that accumulates out here." Ardeth glared at his old friend, and Rick just laughed.  
  
"It is true, though," Hanif said, returning with an armful of clothes, "those of us who have sisters, often hear how our chieftain takes so little interest in his own appearance, and yet, he is one of the most handsome men in all twelve tribes. So I've been told. And some of our warriors do take pride in their appearance. . .maybe more pride in their appearance than in their skills or the condition of their weapons."  
  
By this time, Ardeth was blushing so furiously, Rick wouldn't have been surprised if they could see the resulting glow in Europe. Funny. His big, tough, deadly friend was embarrassed because the girls in his tribe thought him handsome. Rick wondered what Evy would make of that. Doubtless, she would smack him if he even thought about teasing Ardeth. Well, he didn't see Evy anywhere around. . .so where would the harm be? 


	8. Do I Pass?

Okay, minna. . .last two chapters! The wedding and the wedding night, and the reason an otherwise PG story ended up in the R section, just to be on the safe side. As if the prologue wasn't reason enough.  
  
Cindy: Thank you, dear one, it's been fun having you along for the ride. I hope you enjoy the next story, 'What Might Have Been,' (which will be in the PG-13 section once more) as well. That will go up this weekend.  
  
Sailor Elf: Yes, Rick DID deserve that punch, didn't he? He meant well, and honestly had Ardeth's best interests at heart, but he had no business going to Celia about it. And if ever there was a time when Ardeth needed to let go, the eve of his marriage was it. Regardless of his religious beliefs, Ardeth is much too responsible to drink while people need him. . .unless, of course, he has someone who can look out for his people. (Let's face it. . .Ardeth rarely thinks about taking care of himself, because he's too busy taking care of everyone else) And the idea of Ardeth Bey blushing was just too appealing!  
  
Deana: Well, I have you to thank for the whole scene between Rick and Celia, when Rick told her that Ardeth was a virgin. You were a big help when I was plotting that out, to the point that I could actually hear Brendan Fraser's voice and see his facial expressions. Between Ardeth and Celia, Rick's real lucky that he just got decked and punched. Can you imagine what Evy would do to him if she found out?? Hmm. . .I might just have to think about that for a future story!  
  
Part Seven  
  
Across the camp, the women were in shambles. For one thing, the young warrior assigned to aid the women misplaced Celia's ceremonial robes, and Miranda's own dress. Altair thoroughly browbeat the poor boy, then dashed off to find the robes. Fortunately, Celia just stepped into her bath. It was a luxury, for the bath was drawn, the towels were laid out, and once Celia undressed, she was helped into the VERY hot water.  
  
It was a courtesy which she appreciated, considering she was a nervous wreck after her daughter woke her early this morning. Miranda wanted her to know that Ardeth was really sick, but it was okay, 'cause Jonathan was taking care of him. It wasn't until later that Celia realized what happened. Rick threw Ardeth a toned-down bachelor party, as in no half-naked girls, only alcohol. Good thing, because Celia didn't share her man with any other females in that sense. In any event, Ardeth got drunk, and his hangover came early. She didn't think he would ever get drunk again.  
  
Besides, if Celia did her job properly, he wouldn't require alcohol on those rare occasions when he could relax. Knowing Ardeth, he would find it very hard, even when they left on their honeymoon in four months. That surprised and delighted Celia. She thought they wouldn't have a honeymoon at all, but the commanders offered to contribute three days apiece as the acting chieftain. There were twelve commanders. . .that added up to thirty- six days for a honeymoon.  
  
A whole month! Ardeth left it up to her, where they would go. When she asked him where he wanted to go, he cupped her face in his hands, saying softly, "My Celia. This will be one of the few opportunities I will ever have to make you my first priority. This is my gift to you. I want you to choose." Celia acknowledged shyly that she always wanted to visit England and Scotland, and Ardeth said, "Then we shall go to England and Scotland. . .and allow at least two weeks for England. You know the O'Connells."  
  
She did indeed, but she was far more interested in kissing her fiancé senseless than talking about Rick and Evy. Celia smiled, remembering that conversation, then turned her attention to what she would do as the chieftain's wife. In a year or two, she would take on more responsibility, once the Elders were convinced she was suited to such duties. In the meantime, her number one priority was taking care of Ardeth and their children. She would have help in both endeavors from her new family.  
  
It wasn't said directly, but Celia had a feeling how well she took care of Ardeth and their children would set the standard for the rest of her life with the Med-jai. It was, for lack of a better word, a test. She was scared and exhilarated at the same time. Celia had no trouble admitting that she enjoyed taking care of Ardeth. She enjoyed taking care of her daughter. She liked to take care of people. She had no doubt that the 'enlightened' single women back in Chicago would look down on her, but she didn't care.  
  
She didn't care, because she had Ardeth Bey. And he was worth whatever lay ahead. It still made her dizzy to think about it. Out of all the women in the twelve tribes, out of all the women in Egypt, out of all the women in the world, he chose *her.* The drab, uninteresting little girl whose life was marked by scandal first by her grandmother's obvious love and admiration for the poor, ignorant Savages, and then by her own indiscretion with Leslie Carstairs.  
  
Ardeth knew about that. He chose her. He loved her. He would fight and die for her. She didn't want him to die for her, but she also knew that she couldn't take that from him. She could not dishonor him like that, as much as her heart cried out against it. He was a warrior, and that was part of his own personal code. She was his, just as much as he was hers, and Ardeth Bey would kill, or die, to protect that which was his.  
  
Her grandfather, Thomas, was the same way. And she loved her grandfather so much, perhaps it shouldn't have been so surprising that she would fall in love with a man who was so much like her grandfather. Bruce Ferguson helped to create her, but in all the ways which mattered, Thomas was her father, the father of her heart.  
  
So, Celia forged her own code. She would stand at her husband's side, telling him what she thought in private, but never undermining him in public. She would fight for her husband, her family, and her new home. She would do everything in her power to be a worthy mate for Ardeth Bey, chieftain of the Twelve Tribes of the Med-jai. She would find a way to deserve this wonderful man.  
  
As she thought this, she wasn't aware that she spoke aloud. . .at least, not until her soon-to-be dead soon-to-be sister-in-law dunked her head under the water. When Celia bobbed back up, sputtering, Acacia glared at her and said, "That is enough of that, my sister! You *are* worthy of my brother, and you *do* deserve him. I'll hear no more nonsense out of you about that. You proved yourself during the last few days, at least as far as this family is concerned!"  
  
"But I haven't proven it to myself yet, Acacia. How can I make you understand? I never dreamed, in all my life, even before I met Leslie Carstairs, that I would meet a man like Ardeth. It never even entered my mind that I would meet someone like him. . . much less that he would fall in love with me. That sort of thing just doesn't happen to girls like me! You said it yourself, Acacia. Among the Med-jai, your family is considered royalty," Celia replied.  
  
"But among the Europeans, there is a story, of a prince who chooses a peasant girl. Cinderella, I believe it is called. There are similarities, are there not?" Acacia pointed out. Celia took a deep breath, trying to explain that it was a fairy tale, and fairy tales were fantasies which didn't come true. But then Acacia said, "It is a story, yes. But stories often have a basis in fact. After all. . .most people would consider the Creature to be just a story."  
  
Celia felt her jaw become unhinged at that comment. She never thought about that. Her life became so topsy-turvy during the last few months, that the once-fantastical now seemed perfectly normal. Acacia took advantage of that and said, "So. . .enough about you not being worthy of my brother. I'll hear no more of it. Now wash!" Celia glared at her sister- in-law, but did as she was told. She didn't want to see what Acacia would do next if she didn't!  
  
. . .  
  
If someone asked, Jonathan would have flat-out denied it. . .but he was having the time of his life. While he threatened Rick about exposing his brother-in-law to Evy if Rick teased Ardeth, and meant every word, that didn't mean Jonathan was above enjoying his Med-jai friend's obvious discomfort and anxiety. And he didn't always intervene when Rick teased Ardeth, either. Who would have thought the great Ardeth Bey could have a panic attack about getting married?  
  
That morning was not the last time Ardeth worried that Celia would back out of the marriage, or have second thoughts. Jonathan was totally befuddled by that idea. Celia adored Ardeth, anyone with eyes could see that. It wasn't until the thirtieth time that Ardeth asked the question that it finally hit Jonathan. Ardeth, for all his good looks, for all his intelligence, for all his skills as a warrior and a leader, was as insecure as Jonathan himself when it came to the woman he loved.  
  
It wasn't a lack of faith in Celia. It was a lack of faith in himself. Ardeth honestly didn't understand what Celia could possibly see in him. Foolish, foolish boy. How was it possible for a man to attain the age of thirty-three, with women constantly slavering over him. . .and yet, he had no idea what his own worth was? The answer came on the heels of the question. Because Ardeth could never satisfy himself that the interest was in Ardeth, and not the position. Not the power, not the status as first the chieftain's son, the chieftain's brother, then the chieftain.  
  
As the hours passed and each step was taken, Jonathan began to work in ways subtle for him, to shore up Ardeth's flagging spirits. This would be the happiest day of his life, Jonathan was sure of that. They just had to keep him from falling apart. They accomplished this by guarding the uncharacteristically nervous chieftain, keeping out anyone who wanted something from him. However, when the ceremony was two hours away, and Garai was helping Ardeth to trim his beard, potential disaster struck.  
  
Jonathan was helping Rick with his own outfit, Med-jai robes which belonged to Andreas Bey years earlier. He would understand, Garai said, since O'Connell was Med-jai. Jonathan would see to himself last. Thus, no one was guarding the tent flap, and that evil old woman appeared, like the evil witches in dozens of fairy tales. Sanure's mother, who tried every trick in the book to arrange her daughter's marriage to a powerful warrior. Only to have her schemes undone by Sanure's own jealousy.  
  
"This marriage will not go forward, no matter what the Elders say!" the woman hissed. All eyes turned toward the woman, and Jonathan moved in front of Ardeth protectively. He didn't even think about it. The woman gave him the evil eye, both him and Rick, saying, "This is your doing, you and the Nefertiri imposter! You have brought destruction to my people, and the American whore will finish what you started. I. . ."  
  
"Will hold your tongue, if you wish to live," came the very unexpected response from Ardeth. Jonathan turned uncertainly toward his friend, and Ardeth gently moved him to one side, glaring at Sanure's mother. He continued, his eyes burning, "You have no say in this. The Elders have spoken. They recognize my fiancee as the reincarnation of Lady Ardath. They recognize her as my wife. This wedding shall be done."  
  
He took a step forward, his hand coming to rest on his sword. Jonathan moved with him, so he could watch his friend. Without looking, he knew Rick was doing the same. Ardeth continued, his face set in grim lines, "And know this. I will not tolerate anyone speaking of my wife in such a way. Unless. . ." Ardeth allowed his words to trail off, his dark eyes narrowing. Jonathan held his breath, as Ardeth went on, "Unless you wish your son-in-law to challenge me?"  
  
Jonathan heard both Garai and Hanif inhale sharply. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on, but he did realize that Ardeth just threw down a gauntlet. The woman knew this as well, her own eyes narrowing at the young man before her. Ardeth continued, his mouth twisting into a parody of a smile, "Perhaps that is it? You seek to make your son-in-law the chieftain of the Med-jai, as you believe that I am unfit to lead?"  
  
"You betray your people by marrying an American, by marrying an outsider! Just as your father did, just as Rameses did when he coupled with that Hebrew bitch! They both destroyed the purity of the Med-jai people!" the woman spat. The air temperature inside the tent dropped several degrees with her words. Jonathan swallowed hard, especially when he saw Ardeth's expression. The stoic mask was in danger of dropping, and his friend's eyes were almost obsidian with fury.  
  
But the next person to speak was not Ardeth. Rather, it was a woman's voice, who fired back, "You betray your people, Tamar. . .my son has never betrayed our people, and he never will!" The woman whipped around to face Altair Bey, who was staring daggers at her. The Greek woman continued contemptuously, "And you have no right to speak of your pure Med- jai blood, you whose own heritage is as mixed as my son's! You, who carry a Hebrew name!"  
  
Tamar growled her rage, but Altair wasn't finished. She advanced into the tent, hissing, "Do not try my patience. . .old friend. You will find that I will do anything for my children, and just like you, I am willing to play dirty. But, my dear Tamar, I am much better at it. I was, after all, married to Suleiman Bey for more than twenty years, and I have sat on the Council of Elders. I know Med-jai politics, and I know ways to make sure you and your family are cast out of the Med-jai forever!"  
  
"You would not dare!" Tamar hissed. Altair threw back her head and laughed, an almost hysterical edge to her laughter, then just glared at the other woman. Jonathan didn't know about Lady Nasty, but he was ready and willing to believe Altair. After all, he saw her in action. Tamar obviously wasn't convinced yet, for she added, "No, you would not dare! I have always been a Med-jai. . .your word will never be accepted."  
  
"Will it not? Will I not dare? You presume much, Tamar. I tell you this now, for the sakes of your still-innocent grandchildren. You have no idea what I can do. And you will find that I have supporters. So, Tamar. Shall we tear apart the Med-jai? I know many Med-jai women who do not like my new daughter, but they would rather see Sanure cast out. Anissa danced for my son and Celia last night. How many danced for your Sanure?" Altair asked, lifting her eyebrows mockingly.  
  
Based on what he heard during the last few hours, last few days, Jonathan was willing to bet that none of the women in this tribe would have willingly danced for a spoiled little girl who caused a young mother to miscarry her child. From Tamar's expression, he could tell he was right. But Tamar wasn't quite ready to give up, for she muttered, "Anissa has never forgiven my daughter for her youthful high spirits."  
  
Bad move. Altair's eyes flashed with rage, and she shouted, "YOUTHFUL HIGH SPIRTS??? You foolish old woman! I was there, Tamar, when your spoiled brat rode her horse straight at Anissa! I saw Anissa trying to get away before one of the horse's hooves struck her, and I held that girl as she lost her child! My son's greatest regret was that he could do no more than simply choose your brat's husband for her, because if there was any justice in the world at all. . ."  
  
Altair shook her head, adding something in Arabic that Jonathan wasn't sure he wanted to translated. Tamar blanched, then Altair added, switching back to English, "So. Do not tell me what I can, and cannot, do. If your daughter, or you, make any more attempts to harm my son or his new wife, there will be a reckoning. And your entire family will be exiled, Med-jai no more. Your husband. . .your daughter, your son-in-law, your grandchildren. All of you."  
  
"You would have the Elders cast us out, because I repudiate this marriage between our chieftain and an outsider who has a child by disgraceful means?" Tamar asked in stunned disbelief. Without really thinking about what he was doing, Jonathan started forward, but a steel hand stopped him from going too far. The Englishman looked over, to find a now-familiar expression on Ardeth's face. Somehow, in the midst of all this. . .Ardeth found what he lost.  
  
The chieftain answered coldly, "My mother would have you cast out for your disgraceful inability to control your daughter while she was still under your roof; for Sanure's repeated disobedience; and because you dared to insult her daughter. I am out of patience with you, Tamar. Eighteen years ago, my brother punished your daughter by the only means available to him at the time. I have much more leeway now. Do not try my patience further, or you *will* regret it."  
  
It was not a threat, but a statement of fact. Tamar uttered a single word in Arabic, and Ardeth replied in English, "Why would I do this? Why would I choose an outsider over my own people? That outsider chose me for myself. For the man Ardeth Bey, and not what I could give her. She chose me not because of power or prestige, not for the chieftain, the general, or the mystic. . .but the man. She *is* part of this tribe. But perhaps that is not something you can understand."  
  
Now Garai spoke, commanding, "Your chieftain has spoken. Now go. Or risk exile. Either way, give thanks that Ardeth Bey is more merciful. I would have slit your throat for speaking of my mistress as a whore." Jonathan and Rick stood close to Ardeth, ready to give their aid, should it become necessary. It wasn't, Jonathan knew that. But it was the idea. It was time this wench realized that Ardeth didn't stand alone.  
  
Tamar gave them all a single glower, hissing, "This is not over! I give you my word, this is NOT over!" With that final annoucement, she swept from the tent. It was obviously supposed to be very dramatic, but personally, Jonathan saw much better exits on the London stage. Looking around, he could tell that he was the only one who was unimpressed. The Med-jai looked more bored than anything else. Then again, they would. They had little respect for posturing.  
  
Altair sighed, "That woman will never learn. I apologize, my son, I found out from Darius what she planned, and came as soon as I could." Ardeth just inclined his head with a half smile, and Altair put her hands on his arms, saying softly, "Darius and Alex O'Connell have been up to their usual mischief. But when the boys told me what they heard, the conversation between Tamar and Sanure, I told Acacia that this once, Darius would not be punished for his habit of listening behind tents."  
  
"For this, no, we should not punish him, Mother," Ardeth agreed. He paused, then said softly, "It was so strange, Mother. For hours, I have been so afraid that Celia would change her mind, and realize that she could do so much better. Then Tamar came in, and I realized how much of an injustice I did to the woman I love. She chose me, Mother. Of all the men in the world, she chose me, and Celia makes no choices lightly."  
  
There was still wonder in his voice that Celia would chose him, and Altair smiled at him. She cupped his face in her hands, saying, "Of course she chose you, and I would say that, even if you were not my son. I am so proud of you, Ardeth, but you have always made me proud. Even now, when you wed, you take care of everyone. I have my misgivings about Celia. But she is your choice, and I honor that choice."  
  
"Shukran, Mother," Ardeth said softly, covering her hands with his own. He leaned forward a little and kissed her forehead. Jonathan sneaked a peek at his pocket watch. It was almost time for them to leave. Ardeth asked, looking around, "Are we almost ready?" Jonathan indicated his clothes, and hurried off to change. The last thing he wanted was to make Ardeth late for his own wedding!  
  
"You are welcome, my darling boy. Garai, you and the others have done well for my beautiful son. Ardeth, you will be very pleased when you see Celia. Be patient, my son. It is almost time," Altair replied. Jonathan could no longer see her, but she imagined that she rocked up onto her toes to kiss her son. Then she slipped from the tent, muttering under her breath about making sure Acacia and Aleta weren't dawdling.  
  
Garai observed, "She knows fully well that your sisters will do their duty by your wife, Ardeth. But this is her son's wedding day, and Altair needed a pretense to leave the tent, so you would not see her cry." Jonathan could relate. He remembered how misty-eyed he got when Evy was married. She was his baby sister, he couldn't imagine how he would feel when Alex. . . No. No, he had no right to claim Alex as his son.  
  
"No one will think less of her, Garai, it is expected," Ardeth answered. Jonathan heard him take a deep breath, then asked almost shyly, "Do I pass?" It took Jonathan a few moments to understand what he meant. Ardeth was asking if he looked all right for the ceremony. Jonathan, who helped both Ardeth and Rick dress, could admit without fear of being considered sentimental that his friend looked magnificent. Even the other men agreed that Ardeth never looked better.  
  
That was due as much to the moments when sheer joy would shine in his eyes, as the care they took with his appearance today. Rick summed it up when he said, "You look swell, buddy. You and Celia won't be able to take your eyes off each other." Jonathan finished dressing and rejoined his friends. He was barely able to hide his amusement at Rick's goofy grin. His brother-in-law had his hand on Ardeth's shoulder, and Ardeth responded with an uncharacteristically shy smile.  
  
"Well. Now that we are all certain we will frighten no children with our appearance, it is time for the processional to the circle where Ardeth will wed Celia. O'Connell, you will stand on Ardeth's left side, and I will stand on his right. Hanif, you will escort us, and Jonathan, you will bring up the rear. And yes, O'Connell, I am, as you say, being bossy. I am acting as the groom's father, it is my right," Garai instructed.  
  
"Oh yes, that reminds me," Jonathan said as everyone lined up, "will the brat have a role in this? Since he *is* Celia's brother and all?" Personally, Jonathan had absolutely no use for Jason Ferguson, but as he just said, the boy *was* Celia's brother, and they were trying to reconcile. Jonathan hadn't seen them together recently, but he had a feeling neither was particularly comfortable with the other, for obvious reasons.  
  
"He will be at the ceremony, standing with Celia, along with Evelyn. And O'Connell, the horses will be most welcome," Ardeth added. Jonathan heard his brother-in-law mutter something under his breath about Celia and those damn horses. But as Rick agreed, he took care of everything, shooing away Celia's promise that she would repay him as soon as she received the money from her barrister in Chicago.  
  
Jonathan knew Rick, and knew that his brother-in-law was trying to thank Ardeth, for everything he did for them, in his own clumsy way. Ardeth was wise enough to realize this as well, and make no reference to it. However, Jonathan also realized that Ardeth's new wife would be much harder for Rick to handle. He was already starting to realize this, in the way Celia refused to accept things that Ardeth always had.  
  
One of these days, the two Americans would clash. Some time, some place, Rick would push Celia too far, and he would pay a price. More than that, Jonathan knew that Ardeth's own patience was finite. One day, Rick would lash out at Ardeth one time too many, would say 'we, what we?' once too often. And then, he would find out what Jonathan already knew. Ardeth Bey was the best friend they had. . .but he was only human, and he could only take so much.  
  
But that day was in the future. Today, Ardeth was getting married. He found the missing piece of his own heart, and Jonathan was happy for him, even as he was jealous. Ardeth found the missing part of his heart, he found the woman who would complete him, as Evy completed Rick. Jonathan wondered if he would ever be so lucky. Perhaps one day. In time. The Englishman turned his mind back to today's events, praying that nothing more would go wrong.  
  
They left the tent, walking slowly and gracefully through the small encampment, in the lines established by Garai. Jonathan was stunned to see Imhotep standing among the crowd with his Med-jai guards. The former mummy looked at Ardeth. . .then slowly inclined his head. Jonathan held his breath, wondering what Ardeth would do in turn. The Med-jai chieftain returned the gaze, and inclined his own head in response. It was a tiny step, but it was a step forward, nonetheless.  
  
Jonathan heard the murmurs from the Med-jai. None really wanted Imhotep around, but no one would stand against their chieftain. . .not when Imhotep helped to save Ardeth's life. And there was approval for this action. No one trusted Imhotep, no one accepted him, and most even wanted to kill him if they could. But those gathered were proud of their chieftain for his honorable actions and reactions. Jonathan was proud of him too. He was proud to call this amazing young man his friend.  
  
And as they took their places, Jonathan felt compelled to say so. He put his hand on Ardeth's shoulder, murmuring, "I am very proud to know you, Ardeth Bey, and to know that a girl I regard as another little sister is marrying you on this day." He was rewarded with a brilliant grin from his friend, and Jonathan swallowed hard. He patted Ardeth's shoulder awkwardly, then turned to face the outside. In only a short time, the women would join them.  
  
Rick whispered on the other side of Ardeth, "How much do you want to bet the girls will be late, because of something Evy does or says?" Jonathan reached around Ardeth's back to smack his brother-in-law in the back of his head. Rick glared at him with a Look, but it was Ardeth who reached behind him to grasp Jonathan's wrist. The Englishman responded with his most winning smile, but relaxed his arm.  
  
"Behave, both of you," Ardeth warned in an undertone as Jason Ferguson took his place opposite him. The boy was dressed in Western wedding clothes, though Jonathan knew Ardeth offered Med-jai robes to him. Jason was staring at Ardeth, and Jonathan stepped closer to his friend. It wasn't necessary. . .but it was something Jonathan wanted to do. More to the point, it was the right thing to do. And that alone felt good.  
  
He was distracted by a deep booming sound. . .the gong in the middle of the village, no doubt. At the same time, Jason squared his shoulders and looked directly at Ardeth. He said softly, "I wanted to say this before the ceremony started, before Celia and Miranda got here. I've been a lousy brother, and an even worse uncle, but I love my sister and niece. If you ever. . .ever. . .hurt her, if you ever hurt either of them, I'll. . ."  
  
Jonathan waited patiently for Ardeth's reaction, then realized his friend didn't have to say a word. Ardeth would always do his best to take care of Celia and Miranda, but he understood that Jason needed to say the words, just to make sure they were said. The boy continued after a moment, "I'll make you regret it. I swear it. I will make you regret it if you ever hurt either of them." He glowered at Ardeth.  
  
Jonathan almost felt sorry for Jason. The young American was torn between his remaining dislike for Ardeth, and knowing that Ardeth loved Celia. He also knew that his sister loved Ardeth in turn, that their love for each other grew and expanded day by day. Ardeth maintained eye contact with the young man, slowly inclining his head at the same time in acknowledgment of Jason's promise. Nothing more was said, for it was then that the girls made their appearance.  
  
. . .  
  
It was time. Nicodemus, once his work for the women was complete, went to the giant gong in the center of the Med-jai encampment. When the women were in sight of the circle, he was to strike the gong three times. Now, as the mighty sound reverberated throughout the entire village, Ardeth felt it reverberate within his own body, down to his very bones. Any lingering doubts dissipated. This was right. He could feel it.  
  
Which didn't entirely allay his nerves. The last time Ardeth Bey was this nervous was his first battle, when he was sixteen. His father and his brother did their best to prepare him, but practicing for battle and actually fighting for your life were two very different things. Just as, he now understood, falling in love with a woman and committing to her for the rest of your life were also two very different things.  
  
As the gong was sounded by Nicodemus, Jason Ferguson slipped into place. He was dressed Western-style, though the ceremonial robes of the Med-jai were offered to him at Ardeth's request. Jason looked uncomfortable, but determined. The young American made eye contact with Ardeth, saying softly, "I wanted to say this before Celia and Miranda got here. I've been a lousy brother, and an even worse uncle, but I love my sister and niece. If you ever hurt either of them, I'll. . ."  
  
He stopped, his eyes burning. Ardeth waited patiently, though he heard O'Connell snort derisively. Though Jason hurt Celia more in the last few months than Ardeth hoped he would in their entire lifetime together, it was his right to warn Ardeth. Celia was still his sister, still his family, and while they were both still uncomfortable with each other, Ardeth knew that Celia still loved her brother, as much as he loved her.  
  
Jason finally finished, "I'll make you regret it. I swear it. I will make you regret it if you hurt either of them." He glowered at Ardeth, caught between his own dislike for the chieftain and the knowledge that Ardeth loved Celia more every day. And the Med-jai did know that his brother-in-law didn't like him. He could live with that. Ardeth maintained eye contact with the young man, slowly inclining his head at the same time in acknowledgment of Jason's threat. . .no, his promise.  
  
Some of the air went out of Jason at that acknowledgment, even as the remainder of Ardeth's warriors arrived. Anatol slipped up beside Ardeth, murmuring, "Everything is in place, my brother. I checked the perimeter three times, and all guards are posted. The tribe of Horus sent twenty men to guard the camp, as they promised." Ardeth nodded, thanking his brother for his report, and Anatol squeezed his shoulder, adding, "Do not be nervous, my brother."  
  
Ardeth was about to scold his brother, when he saw the women. His mother was first, escorted by Darius and Alex. The two little boys were beaming from ear to ear, obviously pleased to have roles in the wedding. Ardeth grinned in spite of his own worries. Next came Acacia, who held Damara's hand. The four year old toddled along with a bright grin of her own. And then. . .  
  
And then there was Celia. Ardeth's heart seemed to expand in his chest, out and up, until it was blocking his airways. He heard the Western phrase, to have one's heart in one's throat, but until now, he never understood it. She was beautiful. So beautiful. Her long dark hair, now worn loose about her shoulders, was washed and combed until it shone in the late afternoon, early evening sun, and reddish highlights shone in her hair.  
  
Since Ardeth's parents married before his father became chieftain of the Asu tribe, the last person to wear the silver circlet now adorning Celia's head was Ardeth's grandmother, Paziyah Bey, more than sixty years earlier. Ardeth prayed that she was pleased with his choice of a bride, though she died before Ardeth's birth. He prayed that all of his deceased family was pleased, and happy for him on this day.  
  
The ceremonial robes for Med-jai women were different than the men. They did wear trousers, to protect their legs, but these were far more form- fitting. Further, their robes were much longer, reaching to their ankles. But like Ardeth, Celia wore a ceremonial cloak, dark blue embossed with silver Med-jai markings. As she approached, her smile made the sun dim, and Ardeth's breath caught once more in his throat. He tried to swallow, but his heart was still stuck.  
  
At her side was Miranda, wearing a dark blue Med-jai dress, with pearls sewn into the dress in a pattern similar to the markings on her mother's cloak. Her dark hair also hung free, and she beamed as she clung to her mother's hand. Ardeth had a sense that it was taking all of Miranda's fledgling self-control to keep hold of Celia's hand, rather than flinging herself into Ardeth's arms. He smiled at her, mouthing, 'be patient, little one!' She just smiled even broader, and it seemed that Ardeth's heart expanded further, though he hadn't thought possible a few minutes earlier.  
  
Bringing up the rear were Aleta and Evelyn, both beaming proudly at him. Ardeth gave them both a weak smile, before turning his attention back to the young woman now approaching him with their daughter. His mother gently nudged his nephew and Alex O'Connell over to the men, while the women lined up beside Celia, who now stood at Ardeth's side. She smiled at him, a quiet smile which reassured him and cooled his burning skin. Miranda stood between them, taking Ardeth's hand into her free one.  
  
In Arabic, with Acacia translating his words into English, and Evelyn into ancient Egyptian, the First Elder intoned, "We bear witness to this marriage, sanctified by Allah, by Asu, by Isis, by Horus. Three thousand years ago, two young lovers were torn asunder by treachery and death. It was this event that began the birth of our Med-jai. This event also led in time to the casting of the hom dai. Now, three thousand years later, that wrong has been righted."  
  
Now that was a surprise. It sounded as if Nassor, the First Elder, was acknowledging the hom-dai should have never been cast, something which no Med-jai publicly acknowledged in Ardeth's lifetime. From the corner of his eye, Ardeth saw the Crea. . .saw Imhotep. . .stiffen. Nassor looked first at Ardeth and Celia, then Imhotep, and continued, "The circle was broken with the blood of the man and woman standing before us. With their sacrifice, Imhotep was reborn, given the chance to atone. A chance denied to him by our forefathers."  
  
Now Imhotep looked almost ashen in shock. He was actually wavering on his feet. Nassor continued, with the women translating, "It is fitting then, that the pair who gave Imhotep, high priest of Seti I, a second chance, should now be wed. Jason Ferguson, render your sister's hand unto the man whom she has chosen, and who has chosen her." Jason looked at Celia, who nodded slightly, and then the young American carefully lifted Celia's free hand, placing it palm first against Ardeth's own upturned palm of his left hand.  
  
Ardeth closed his fingers around Celia's, feeling hers intertwine with his. Nassor continued, "Ardeth Bey, son of Suleiman and Altair. . .present to your intended wife the golden ring of trust." Ardeth extended his right hand and felt Anatol gently place the gold ring in the center of his palm. The young chieftain lifted Celia's hand, his eyes never leaving hers as his two sisters finished their translations.  
  
Once they fell silent, Ardeth addressed his wife in English, Acacia translating into Arabic, "I give to you this ring, Cecelia, as a symbol of my trust in you. I trust you with the treasures of my people, and with my own belongings. I trust you with my body, with my heart, with my soul." With those words spoken, Ardeth gently slid the ring onto her finger, releasing a sigh of relief that it did fit, after all.  
  
Nassor now intoned, "Cecelia Ferguson, daughter of Bruce and Madeleine. . . present to your intended husband your symbol of love and fidelity." This actually varied from couple to couple. Some wives presented their husband with ceremonial shields, others with daggers. Ardeth was curious to see what his bride would choose as a symbol of her commitment.  
  
Celia turned her head ever so slightly to her left, releasing Miranda's hand at the same time, and Evelyn placed something in Celia's hands. She turned back to face Ardeth, addressing him in English, "I give you to this cloak, Ardeth, as a symbol of my love. May it warm you with my love when you are far from me, may it shield you from your enemies and from the elements, and may it guide you home when all seems lost."  
  
Ardeth stared at her, stunned, and O'Connell murmured, "I suppose she figured you had enough weapons, buddy." There was the sound of a slap, O'Connell muttering 'ouch,' then Garai removed the cloak from Ardeth's shoulders. At the same time, Anatol took the cloak from Ardeth's unresisting hands, gently arranging it around his shoulders. Ardeth still couldn't speak. He hadn't thought she could do better than the remembrance pouch which saved his life and his soul in his first meeting with Khaldun. Perhaps one day, she would cease surprising him. He hoped not.  
  
When the pressure in his throat eased enough, Ardeth whispered, "I accept your gift, my wife, and even when I am away from you, this pouch and this cloak will ensure that you are with me." Celia smiled, the smile changing to a faint grimace as Miranda danced at her feet, whispering, 'me, too. . .me, too!' But she swept her daughter into her arms, resting Miranda on her hip, so their three hands could be joined.  
  
Miranda rested her small hand atop Ardeth and Celia's intwined fingers, and Nassor smiled at the little girl. He rested his hand atop her head, saying, "The gifts are accepted. I, the First Elder of the Med-jai, declare that Ardeth and Cecelia Bey are now our chieftain and lady. I further recognize Miranda Ferguson Bey to be the daughter of said marriage. May she be graced with many brothers and sisters. My chieftain. . .you may seal this ceremony."  
  
That was a signal to Ardeth that he was allowed to kiss his new wife. He grinned down at her, seeing it in her eyes, and slipped his free arm about her waist. Ardeth whispered, "Now you are mine, and I am yours." He kissed her, drawing cheers of approval from the gathered warriors and laughter from the women. Then there was a small hand pushing against his chest, and Miranda repeated excitedly, 'me too, Ardeth. . . me too, me too, me too!'  
  
Ardeth laughed against his wife's mouth, then drew back to kiss his daughter. Miranda flung her arm around him, so that she was held between them. They were now a family, in the eyes of the gods and in the eyes of men. But this wasn't the end of their story. As Ardeth mouthed, "I love you" to his wife, he knew that this was only the beginning. Tonight would be the wedding night. . .when their flesh joined. Tonight, the dreams would end, and the reality would begin. 


	9. Epilogue: Full Circle

Epilogue  
  
There were four hours between the end of the ceremony and the wedding night. In Celia Bey's estimation, that was four hours too many. But, the tent of the chieftain required preparation and there was dancing to be done. Along with people who suddenly changed their minds, and wished to welcome Celia to their tribe. Ardeth greeted them with a faint smile, though she could see in his eyes that he trusted them about as much as she did. Not at all. However, both held their tongues and smiled at the appropriate times.  
  
About an hour before she was to retire for the night, Ardeth kissed her cheek and whispered, "I must go, my love. Come to me in an hour." Celia nodded and turned her head to kiss him properly. She slipped her hand around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss until he moaned. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily, and much to Celia's delight, his eyes were glazed. He stumbled away, muttering under his breath in Arabic.  
  
"Maybe I should go with him. . .make sure he doesn't break his neck," Rick O'Connell said, pushing himself to his feet. He paused, as if making sure he wasn't stepping on any toes, and when no one stopped him, he followed Ardeth. However, he didn't leave without kissing Evy. Celia never said he was stupid. . .just that he didn't always think. There was a huge difference between the two. A mischievous smile from her best friend told Celia that Evy knew this as well. Maybe that was how she kept her patience with her annoying husband.  
  
Evy remained at Celia's side. Altair retired two hours earlier, taking Miranda with her. The sleepy little girl hadn't wanted to go at first, but when she fell asleep in Ardeth's lap, there was no more argument. Acacia left shortly thereafter with an equally sleepy Damara and Darius. Alex was valiantly fighting his own exhaustion, but a quick glance from Evy had Jonathan scooping the little boy up and carrying him away from the fire. Now, out of the extended family, only Evy, Aleta and Celia remained of the women.  
  
As the hour passed, one by one, the warriors took their leave. It was late, after all, and many were exhausted from practice and the festivities. The last to leave were Anatol, Kaphiri, Hanif, Nicodemus, and Garai. Each of the first four bowed to her, calling her their queen. And the last? He placed a fatherly kiss atop Celia's head and whispered in ancient Egyptian, "Your husband will be ready for you in about fifteen minutes, my queen." He kissed her forehead then, and then left with the other warriors.  
  
Aleta was the last to leave, after embracing and kissing Celia to welcome her to the family. Now it was just Evy and Celia at the slowly dying fire. The moments ticked by, then Evy said softly, "We should go." Celia nodded and carefully rose to her feet. She really didn't want to trip over her cumbersome robes and land face-first in the fire, dying though it was. That would be a very bad start to her new life.  
  
The Med-jai who would guard the dying fire nodded respectfully to them. Celia returned the gesture, hoping that it was received in the manner it was intended. It was. The young man smiled at her, then she and Evy walked away. They were silent as they walked, for there was very little to say. Celia was lost in her own thoughts, as was Evy. Either that, or just respecting Celia's silence. That was the case until a shadow fell across them and Evy exclaimed, "You! What do you want?"  
  
Celia looked up quickly, to see Imhotep looming over them. Or rather, his shadow loomed. He kept a respectful distance from them, no doubt due to the two Med-jai standing guard. Imhotep ignored Evy and addressed Celia in ancient Egyptian, "I wished to thank you for what you did for me. I never realized it until today, but the Elder speaks truly. It was your blood which allowed me to be reborn. I can never repay that."  
  
Celia started to speak, then realized she had no idea what to say. Imhotep wasn't finished, either. He continued, "This is a strange time and a strange place for me, little queen. I have been given a chance to atone, but first, there is much I need to learn. I would have you as my teacher, little queen, if you would be willing." There was a curious plea in his voice, and Celia felt Anck materialize at her side.  
  
"May I have a few days to think it over?" Celia finally asked in the same language. She sensed Anck beaming at her with pride. Imhotep looked startled, but nodded quickly. He fully expected her to turn him down flat. That was Celia's first instinct. She had no reason to trust Imhotep, save one. He carried out his end of the bargain, and helped to save Ardeth. True, it was to break the hom-dai, but he was true to his word.  
  
"As many as you require. I know I ask much of you," Imhotep added, bowing his head. She wasn't sure if it was true humility or what he thought would convince her, but Celia couldn't deny he was trying. After a moment, he continued, "But now, my Lady, Rameses reborn awaits you. He has waited for you for three thousand years. . .a very long time to wait for the person you love most in the world. Go to him."  
  
Celia nodded and Imhotep walked away, with the two Med-jai at his side. Evy murmured, "Well, that was strange." Again, Celia nodded and the two women drew up to the tent. Ardeth's tent, and now hers as well. Evy turned to face her, saying, "There is one last ritual for me to fulfill. I could not dance for you, my dear friend, but this is something I can do." With those words spoken, she drew Celia into her arms, whispering, "May Taueret bless you, my dear friend, my sister."  
  
As she spoke, Celia felt Evy's unborn child kick, and Evy laughed with delight, adding, "You see! Your niece agrees!" Celia laughed with her, and Evy drew back, her arms still looped about Celia's waist. Her eyes grew very serious and she said, "I'll not waste your time, telling you what will happen if you ever hurt Ardeth, because I don't believe you ever will. Just know that I love you, just as I love him, and I always will."  
  
At her side, Celia felt Anck beaming at Evy happily. So strange, how Anck's resentment gradually faded over the weeks. Perhaps Evy and Anck would never be friends, but at the very least, they would be allies, united by their love for Celia and Ardeth. And that was enough. In the back of her soul, the American woman could feel Ardath sighing softly with relief. This was one of her fondest wishes, to see Nefertiri and Anck-su-namun reconciled. Celia answered, speaking for both herself and her previous incarnations, "And I love you." Evy smiled once more, kissed Celia's cheek, then gently pushed her toward the tent. Celia's new life was about to begin.  
  
The bride quietly entered her new home, and gasped. Behind her, she heard Evy fastening the tent flap, to ensure their privacy, but it only barely registered. Her new sisters told her this would happen, but the reality was a far different thing than just the words. The tent was filled with candles, and in the center was Ardeth. Attired only in his trousers, he knelt on. . .something. His black hair flowed lightly to his shoulders.  
  
He smiled almost shyly, bowing his head and saying softly, "Just as I serve my people, so too, do I serve you. Do with me as you will, my mistress. I am yours, and you are mine." The words turned Celia's knees to mush. She barely managed to walk to her new husband before her legs gave out, and she slipped to her knees in front of him. Her first act was to place one finger under his chin and lift it until his eyes met hers.  
  
Words failed her. How could she answer that properly? Acacia and Aleta never told her the appropriate response. So she did the only thing she could do. She cupped her husband's face in her hands, and she kissed him. His beard lightly scratched her fingers, but it only served to send bolts of desire through her body. She broke off, whispering, "You are mine. Give me your trust, my chieftain, for it is my greatest desire to give you pleasure."  
  
Now where did that come from? She had no idea, but it seemed to be fitting. Ardeth actually blushed, but nodded. He added hoarsely, invoking an oath spoke three thousand years earlier, on the first night shared by Rameses and Ardath, "I am your servant. I will worship you and love you for the rest of my life, for the rest of our lives. I will give you children, and tonight, I make you my wife. But for now, I give you my heart and my trust. You are mine, and I am yours, forevermore." He changed it. . .but the sentiments were the same.  
  
And now, Celia was even more determined to give him pleasure, for those words reminded her once more of her dream. Rameses took the lead that night, his experience outweighed Ardath's by far. But things were different this time. She was the more experienced now. Where did she start, where did she start, where did she start? Celia absently dropped a kiss on Ardeth's shoulder, her eyes drinking in this beautiful man. He was perfect. The scars and other markings did nothing to decrease that perfection. Indeed, they made him all the more appealing. The scars gave Celia more places to kiss.  
  
Ardeth kept his arms at his side, and Celia ran her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, then slipped to his waist. He inhaled sharply, his brown eyes widening. But he did not pull away. Intrigued by his reaction, Celia traced the tattoos covering his flat stomach and chest, each rib, then the scars which were visible on his torso. Ardeth's eyes closed, his lips parting, and a soft moan emerged from his throat at her feather-light touch.  
  
She wanted to kiss each scar, each tattoo, wanted to trace his pectoral and abdominal muscles. But there was more to see, and Celia had all night. She kissed his shoulder again, then scooted on her knees around to his back. . .and caught her breath. Ardeth stiffened, his shoulders straightening. On his back were more tattoos. . .and more scars. Far more than she found on his stomach and chest. And these were very particular scars, which made her blood run cold with a combination of fear and rage.  
  
Ardeth was whipped. The scars were fine white lines now, indicating that he had them for many years. She gently brushed her lip against one scar, hearing the breath hiss out of her husband as she did so, and asked, "Who did this to you? When?" She waited for no answers, but began kissing each scar. It was her way of healing, her kiss replacing the sensation of that whip striking his flesh with a new, pleasurable sensation.  
  
"I. . .was seventeen. After Andreas was killed. Lock-nah and his men," Ardeth answered, then sighed, his muscles going lax under her lips and hands. But while he was relaxing. . .sort of, Celia was not. Her eyes blazed, though her husband couldn't see it. Lock-nah again. A fury grew in Celia's soul at the mention of the late renegade. It was a good thing he was dead, because if he wasn't, Celia would have killed him herself.  
  
She said so, brushing the black hair from the nape of Ardeth's neck to press a gentle kiss there, "Good. If he were still alive, I would kill him for hurting you. I love you so much, Ardeth." He had no answer, as her hands and lips were now caressing and kissing his back and shoulders. Her hands and arms were cramping, due to the strange angle, so Celia whispered, "Face down, Ardeth, I'm only so flexible."  
  
This drew a hoarse laugh from him, which ended in a groan as her hands slid to his hips. But Ardeth did as she asked, and Celia eased her body onto his. Once she was more or less comfortable, she brushed away his hair and began exploring in earnest. She started at the nape of his neck, kissing her way down his spine. He trembled under her, his breathing irregular and whispering things in Arabic she didn't understand.  
  
Not that she asked him. Instead, she pressed a tender kiss to the base of his spine, then began kissing the scars once more. As Celia told Ardeth when they first met, she knew soldiers. . .warriors. . .back in the States. Many of them were her own age, who fought in the Great War when they were just boys. Celia worked in city hospitals as a volunteer during the Great War, often accompanying her grandmother, and against the wishes of her mother. Those young soldiers explained the difference between a knife wound and a bullet wound, assuming one was fortunate enough to survive either.  
  
And as the wife of the Med-jai chieftain, she would learn even more. Just from her husband's body, she would learn these things. There were scars from knife wounds, slash scars, in addition to the whipping scars and the occasional bullet scar. And each was kissed, each was caressed. Celia made each her own, for she knew that sometimes scars did hurt. Something else those young soldiers told the young girl who came into the hospital to try to make their lives brighter. She wanted Ardeth to remember only pleasure, no pain, and she covered every inch of his flesh, from the waist of his trousers to the nape of his neck, outlining his ribs and his shoulder blades with kisses.  
  
By the time she had him turn back over, Ardeth was moaning softly no matter where she touched him. But Celia was just getting started. As she once more settled her body atop his, Ardeth's hands came up to cradle her waist, but it wasn't yet time. Celia intercepted his hands and pressed them to the blanket which protected them from the sand under the tent, pressing a light kiss under his navel at the same time. Ardeth actually whimpered, writhing under her touch. Celia allowed herself a smile, then began disrobing. She was actually very glad that only Ardeth's trousers remained. Things might have gotten. . .complicated.  
  
Once her robes were gone, Celia leaned forward, until skin met skin. It was killing Ardeth, she knew, to be so passive. He was anything but passive, after all. But he gave his trust to her, and he was trying desperately to maintain his word. Celia loved him for that, and for his self-control. This time, she tried a two-pronged attack, kissing his mouth as her hand began to caress his torso. She was rewarded with a low groan, and Celia smiled against his mouth. Time to experiment. As her fingers lightly, lazily, caressed his chest, ribs, then finally his belly, Celia covered his face with kisses. . .his closed eyes, the tattoos on his cheeks, his forehead, even the tip of his nose.  
  
Ardeth was caught somewhere between panting and groaning, his fingers twisted in the tassels of the blanket (tassels?), and Celia stepped up the attack. Before too much longer, Ardeth wouldn't be able to remember his promise to just trust her. She knew that. He could not only take, by nature, Ardeth also had to give. But before he did any giving, she had more work to do. She whispered, "Just a little longer, love."  
  
Then she returned to work, trailing kisses along his jaw, down the side of his neck, over to the hollow of his throat, then made her way down his chest. Her lips and tongue traced the muscles of his chest, brushing the already-hardened nipples, before caressing the tattoos. Ardeth moaned, his flesh warming under her touch. For even as her mouth did its magic, Celia's hands were busy. She grasped Ardeth's wrists, lifting them high over his head, stretching the skin and making it that much more sensitive.  
  
She should have thought to use a scarf. . .ah! There was the sash of her robes! She carefully bound Ardeth's wrists together, making sure that it wasn't so tight that it would hurt him, then returned her attention to thoroughly seducing him. Ardeth whispered in Arabic and English, Celia only able to make out, "Please. . ." before he lapsed back into Arabic once more. And of course, her Arabic was limited at the moment to 'yes,' 'no,' and 'thank you.'  
  
Celia stroked the insides of his wrists, drawing soft sighs of pleasure, then moved back down once more. It took her a moment to remember where she left off, then grinned. Oh yes. Celia slipped her hands to Ardeth's waist, easing his trousers down over his hips, even as she lowered her head to bless each rib with kisses.  
  
At the same time, Ardeth's control finally snapped, and as Celia covered his midsection with kisses, Ardeth's fingers began to comb through her hair, massaging her scalp. It happened to be the only part of her which he could reach at the moment, and it had the effect of heightening Celia's own rhythm. To say nothing of making her own body temperature rise a few degrees. Almost home. It was at that point that she found out she hadn't secured his wrists well enough, because it was then his touch on her head actually registered with her.  
  
As she lifted her head to look at him, his eyes seemed to be much closer than they should have been. He gave her a feral grin, then with a single twist of his hips, he was lying on top of her, pinning her own wrists to the ground. Well, they did say turnabout was fair play. They stared at each other for a long time, then Celia smiled crookedly at her husband, whispering, "Welcome home, my love." Three thousand years removed from that first night, he was finally home. . .and so was she. Body, heart, and spirit.  
  
Names no longer mattered in that moment. Was she Celia or Ardath, was he Ardeth or Rameses? It no longer mattered. Names were unimportant. Only love mattered. With a groan, he buried his face in her hair, but only for a moment. After a moment, he pulled back and whispered, "We are wearing too many clothes, my queen." Celia smiled as Ardeth pulled back to kick his trousers off, allowing her leeway to remove her own trousers, then her underthings.  
  
Once his legs were free, Ardeth began removing his loincloth, allowing Celia to view the last part of her husband which remained hidden, but Ardeth drew her eyes back to his face. He was uncomfortable, she realized, and he whispered, "I must. . .I wish to give. . .what do you want of me, my queen?" His hand was hot on her thigh, and now it was becoming a struggle for Celia to think clearly, much less answer his question.  
  
But she answered, "I want for us to become one. Do you understand?" Ardeth nodded, then drew her into his arms. Her pleasuring could wait. Celia was determined to start her new life off right, by taking care of her husband. He gave and gave and gave. It was time for someone else to give. As she drew Ardeth into her body, Celia bit her lip. She would not cry out. He was not hurting her. She needed him as much as he needed her. As their bodies joined, Celia gave a low moan of her own. They were both truly home, and this was only the beginning.  
  
Here ends 'A Med-jai Wedding.' Coming soon, 'What Might Have Been.'  
  
Author's Notes and Thanks: I know, this was a lot shorter than 'The Forever Friends,' but this was a transition piece. Also, 'The Forever Friends' was a story which introduced several new characters, not the least of which was Ardeth's mother and siblings, and Celia, and Lady Ardath, whose murder started everything in the first place. Most of my stories, including the next one, run about ten chapters in all.  
  
The next story, 'What Might Have Been,' goes into more detail about Garai's visions. Remember back in 'The Forever Friends,' when Evy was told about what would have happened if Andreas was in charge, instead of Ardeth? She gets the full picture, as do Rick and Jonathan. There are a few other what might have beens which come up (what might have happened if Horus wasn't killed as he flew away from Ahm Shere, and a few tantalizing hints about what might have happened if Imhotep rose twenty years earlier, while our heroes were very, very young).  
  
This story also sees the rise of some serious tension between Rick and Celia. It's been building through the last two stories, but it comes to a head in 'What Might Have Been.' They don't return to their earlier friendship until the fifth story, 'A Lesser Evil.' And that's all I'll say about that, because anything more would ruin the fun.  
  
Thanks, as always, to everyone who read, special thanks to everyone who reviewed, whether once or for each chapter. 


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